Harry Potter and the Forest of Souls
by Nyllewell
Summary: Six years after Hogwarts both Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy live in Muggle London. What happens when a chance encounter throws them back together. Mostly book compliant. Not Prologue compliant. HP/DM. This is a complete story (shocker from me, I know). I'll be uploading chapters pretty regularly.
1. Chapter 1

Draco Malfoy left his lover's flat (_ex-lover _his mind corrected) in some disgust. It wasn't necessarily the ending of the love affair that bothered Draco, but more the parting words. "_It's like you're not here!" Steven had accused. Draco had gestured around them, "I'm here now, aren't I?" _Thinking back, Draco heard the falseness in his voice and inwardly shook his head at the memory. _Steven's blue eyes had narrowed. "Emotionally, Draco. It's like you're emotionally absent." Draco hadn't meant to, but he had laughed. "What am I supposed to be emotionally connected to? You? This was just a passing fling, Steven. You knew that, I knew that." There had been a moment of shocked silence between them. Draco knew he'd gone to far, but it wasn't in his nature to back down, so he folded his arms across his chest and waited. Waited for the inevitable. It only took ten seconds, a new record. Steven walked briskly to the coat hanger by the door and grabbed a thick black jacket and a scarf off the pegs, throwing them roughly to Draco, hoping the blonde would drop them and be forced to bend down. But Draco was ready, his reflexes quick; he grabbed both garments midair, with a challenging lift to his brow. Steven opened the door, "I think you should go." He didn't look at Draco and for a moment, for the briefest moment, Draco wanted to apologize, but the moment was gone and the words never passed his lips. He had shrugged into his jacket, wrapped his scarf around his neck and left._

And that was what brought him walking about the streets on an early January morning in muggle London. The city was already awake, despite the clammy chill that hung in the air. The traffic came and went, pausing for the traffic lights. People rushed to and fro, some talking on their phones, some talking to their friends, others, like him, had their head downs. Draco liked living in muggle London. He liked not being instantly recognizable by his blond hair alone. He liked the distance from the Wizarding World. Naming all the reasons were moot; Draco had turned his back and had never looked back. A brisk wind sent a shiver through Draco's spine and he cleared his thoughts. Enough introspection for one day, he decided. What he really wanted was a cup of coffee. He looked up, brushing his blond hair out of his eyes, scanning around until he spotted a coffee shop on a corner, about a block away.

The aroma of coffee hit him as he entered the door and he took a deep breath, nodding absently as a few workers shouted "Mornin'!" It was a pleasant little shop. Four or five tables lined the windows, giving the patrons a view of the people passing on the street. A few tables were occupied, but Draco eyed a comfortable looking spot in the corner. He ordered a flat white and a newspaper, careful to count the money, which was so different from the knuts and galleons he was raised on. Content for the moment, Draco leaned against the wall, opened his paper and was about to sip his coffee when he heard an incredulous, "Draco Malfoy." Standing at the counter, shock evident on his face, was a person Draco had never wanted to see again. He was older, thinner, and the glasses were gone, but there was no mistaking the green eyes or the lightning shaped scar barely visible through a messy fringe. Draco took a deep breath, "Harry Potter," he finally managed to draw out the name.

The tension between them was thick, enough for the muggles to turn around in their seats and glance anxiously at them. That was nothing new. It seemed wherever or whenever he and Potter met there was a spectacle, what was new was Draco's desire to avoid a scene. He noticed Harry's knuckles were clinched and white. "What are you doing here?"

Draco folded his paper and help up his coffee cup, "Same as you, I'd imagine, Potter. Coffee." He sipped his drink, ignoring the fact that it was still too hot.

The brunet glared, "But why here, Malfoy. What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be off tormenting something?"

Well that stung. He felt an angry blush creeping on his face. Six years he had avoided his past, six years he had been living peacefully and respectfully amongst the muggles, and now Harry Potter was invading his peace; shattering it with accusations that shouldn't bother him so much. Except that it was Potter saying them. Potter was always able to get under his skin. Draco sneered, "Shouldn't you be off burying someone. Do people still have a knack of dying around you?" He knew he shouldn't have said anything, knew he should have listened to that tiny voice that said, leave well enough alone, but too late now. A flash of anger on Potter's face was the only warning Draco had before the other man charged him, punching him squarely on the mouth.

The coffee shop erupted into a panic as the two men brawled in the corner. The two were throwing equal punches, landing on each other's faces and shoulders. The table flipped over, coffee and newspaper pitched in the air. The people in the shop were shouting now, threatening to call the police. Draco's reasoning mind caught up with him. "Potter." Draco dodged a blow to his chin and pushed the other man away. Oddly, Draco was feeling rather calm at the moment. His lip was most definitely busted, he could taste blood on his tongue, and his left eye was throbbing, but he was calm. "Wait, Potter." Draco held up his hands, a defensive posture that caught Potter off guard. Potter had a bleeding nose and a swollen eye as well, and suddenly the whole fight seemed so absurd that Draco began to laugh. After a moment, Potter joined in the laughter. He stood, brushing coffee and napkins off his jeans. "Dammit Malfoy, you prat," Draco laughed harder. There wasn't any real menace to Potter's voice, but Draco was still shocked when Potter extended a hand to him, helping him off the floor.

The two looked around at the mess they had made. Potter had the decency to look abashed. Several patrons had their hands over their mouths, shocked at the fight. The workers glared at them. "Well, damn," Potter said softly and with regret, "I really liked this place too."

Draco raised an eyebrow and reached into an inside jacket pocket, discreetly pulling out his wand. "If you clean up, I'll change their memories," he offered. It was more than just a casual suggestion, it was an olive branch.

"We can't do that, Malfoy." Potter paused, bending down to where Draco just noticed an ankle wand holster. "Can we?" Potter seemed unsure, holding his wand out of sight of the other people in the shop. If they were going to act, it had to be now, before anyone left.

The idea of doing something so scandalous with none other than Harry Potter was too much for Draco's vain ego. He shrugged, gave a small grin and began a wordless spell to alter the memories of all those in the shop. He felt, rather than saw, Potter weave his own spell. After a few moments the coffee shop was returned to its pre-fight condition. Draco glanced about him and noticed the blank faces on the workers and the patrons, impressed with his work.

"_Confundus_?" Potter asked, replacing his wand.

"Modified Memory Charm."

"Oh." He met Draco's gaze, wincing at the damage done to his face. "C'mon, let's get out of here." Draco motioned wordlessly between them. "Yeah, healing magic isn't really my forte," Potter gestured to their faces a little sheepishly, "but I have something that will help." Potter held his arm out, swallowing hard, expectant. Malfoy hesitated, but firmly grasped Potter's wrist, closing his eyes as the familiar pull of side apparition hit him.

Harry handed a healing poultice to Malfoy as well as a bag of ice wrapped in a towel. They were at Harry's flat, a few blocks away from the coffee shop. It was odd now, to be in the company of Malfoy. Just moments ago he had been fighting the blonde man, relishing in each blow that hit, but somewhere in their fistfight, Harry realized he wasn't really fighting Malfoy. He was fighting against everything Malfoy had ever stood for; pure-bloods, wizards, rituals, a life that he had done his best to forget. Seeing Malfoy had brought long simmering emotions to boil until it had exploded like a potion gone wrong in a cauldron. When Malfoy stopped fighting and started laughing, Harry had to laugh too. Harry wasn't normally one to hold a grudge; hadn't even known he was holding one, but all his anger seemed to have left him, maybe transferred to the bloody lip and swollen eye of his one time enemy. One time, because Harry oddly didn't feel any animosity toward Malfoy.

Draco dropped casually on a beige couch, leaning against the armrest. He stretched out, but kept his feet off the couch; he wasn't a barbarian after all. The poultice stung where Draco applied it and then instantly went cool as the medicine activated. He applied some to his split lip and eyebrow, noting that Potter was also tending to his wounds. The flat was nice, Draco admitted to himself. Bright, clean, modern, rather spacious, and quiet. Oddly quiet. Draco leaned his head back on the armrest and placed the ice pack on his eye. "So where are the kids? Out with the missus?"

Harry frowned at the man lying so casually in his living room. At first, Harry thought Malfoy was asking to be cruel, but there was none of the snide, spiteful drawl he had come to associate with the Malfoys. Just an honest curiosity. Harry sat opposite Malfoy in his favorite recliner. _Where to start,_ he thought sourly. "No...no children."

Malfoy's eyebrows lifted, but his eyes remained closed. "Really? I would have thought to see a dozen red-haired Weasley descendants by now."

Harry felt his face go red. He really hadn't talked about his split with Ginny Weasley to anyone, even though it was years ago; it felt strange and alien to be having this conversation with Malfoy, yet Harry found himself answering anyway. "Ginny and I, well, we broke up a year ago."

Draco did open his eyes at that, looking sideways to see Harry rocking in a chair. A thousand different thoughts went through Draco's mind, mostly in regards to how much he hated that family and yet for the first time in a long time Malfoy listened to that voice that urged him to be careful what he said. So, he didn't throw any insults, didn't make any platitudes, but he did smile slyly. "I bet Ronald Weasley threw a fit."

"Pretty spectacularly," Harry answered honestly. Ron was still one of his best mates, but his answer to breaking it off with Ginny was a sore spot. "He actually tried to jinx me."

"Really?" Malfoy sounded impressed. When no more information seemed forthcoming, he prodded, "And?"

"And he missed," Harry sighed, "Actually, it bounced off an anti-jinx ward I had on." Malfoy looked like he was trying to hold in a laugh and Harry smiled at the memory. "He had tried some sort of inflation hex," now Malfoy was laughing, "when it backfired he swelled up, like a balloon." In all honesty, it had taken a couple of months for he and Ron to return to speaking terms. It was all in the past now, and it helped to laugh at it, even if it was with Draco Malfoy of all people. They slipped into a companionable silence. Harry kept waiting for some ugly emotion to rear its head, for more accusations to fly, for the arguing to start, for them both to continue the pattern that had for so many years defined their childhood. Yet nothing came. Malfoy seemed content to sit in silence and not pester Harry. That was a new experience. It seemed every time he met someone from the Wizarding World they asked him a litany of questions: What has he done since defeating You Know Who being the most asked. But nothing from Malfoy. Either the other man didn't care or already knew. After a while, Harry decided to ask Malfoy a question of his own. "So, how about you? Married? Have any progeny?"

Malfoy snorted, "Hardly. In fact, I had just been thrown out this morning." He sat up, taking the ice pack off his face, a strange vulnerability in his eyes that Harry rarely saw. "I shouldn't have said what I did to you, at the coffee shop. I was having a rotten morning, but I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I'm sorry for that."

Harry was speechless. Malfoy from his past had never _ever _apologized. It was difficult to reconcile the Malfoy he knew from the Malfoy that was in front of him. But then, maybe they just grew up. Harry smiled, "Thanks. I didn't mean to hit you so hard." Malfoy waved away Harry's concern and laid his head back. A clock in the hall struck nine and Harry got to his feet. Only nine in the morning and yet his world was very different than he thought it would be. He didn't expect to see Draco Malfoy, of all people, drinking coffee in a muggle shop, didn't expect to physically fight said Malfoy, and certainly didn't expect for him to be recuperating in his flat. Strange day, and strange that he wasn't as bothered by Malfoy's presence as he thought he would be. Harry made his way into the kitchen, stomach rumbling and grabbed ingredients to make breakfast for two.

By the time the sausage was done, and the eggs fried, and the beans warm, Malfoy appeared in the kitchen doorway. "Are you _cooking_?"

"Just finished." Harry wiped his hands on a towel, waved a wand so the dishes would wash and motioned Malfoy to follow him to a small table in the corner, each hand balancing a plate as if he had done it a thousand times. "Have a seat and _bon appetit_."

Malfoy gave him a strange look before sitting down. Two glasses appeared, full of sparkling wine, and he raised the flute, "Cheers_._"

Draco pushed open the door to his factory shop and shrugged out of his coat, mind still turning over and over from the strange events of the morning. He absently minded waved greetings to workers as he made his way downstairs to his office. On the way he passed several new designs in various stages of completion; a half finished men's suit, three wedding dresses, and several formal wear that all had to be completed before the Fashion Weeks. So much work to do, so little time. Draco sighed as he entered his office, pushing the red button on the voicemail. Muggles, he had found out surprised, had many ways to cope for their lack of magic; electricity being the main one. Draco dropped into his leather chair and brushed his fingers through his hair listening to the messages. A few were from fabric vendors and Draco jotted down the messages and numbers to return their calls later. He looked at the calendar on the wall. There was still time. He had never missed a deadline, much to the shock and surprise of the fashion industry. How such a small firm managed to keep up with the demand and quality aggravated some of Draco's competition. A small smile played on his lips. Of course, they didn't have magic to assist them. Draco had been taught to take advantage of any situation he could to succeed in life. Though he consciously made it a point to ignore most of his upbringing in the muggle world, that was one lesson that he had taken to heart.

"Hey Drake," one of Draco's assistants knocked briefly and stuck his head in. Brian Weston was one of the lead designers and partner for Drake Black Designs, and Draco's best friend. He was short and skeletal thin, from smoking too many cigarettes a day and from living up to the impossible standard gay men had in high society London. Draco waved him in. "We're missing a batch of cloth for the Genessy Affair."

"I just got their call. It should be in by noon." Draco replied lightly. "Baring's is running a little later than usual. Go down to their shop tomorrow if the lace isn't in by then."

"Sure," Brain hesitated a second, then smiled broadly. "Since when do you take delays so well?" His eyebrows shot up and down suggestively perhaps just noticing the slightly swollen lip Draco was spouting and mistaking its origins. "Have a good night?"

Draco pointed to the door, "Out." He tried to keep his face straight, but his lips were turned slightly up. For anyone else it wouldn't have been recognizable, but Brian knew him well.

"A good morning, then?" Brian was backing out of the office, dramatically pausing at the door. "Do tell."

"Out."

Brain laughed, "You're no fun, Drake."

Draco rolled his eyes. His office was at the end of the hall and with no one around he spared a bit of magic to close to his door. For a moment he had nothing to accomplish and his mind wandered back to his very surreal breakfast with Harry Potter.

"_This is pretty good," Draco offered as he took another bite of his eggs._

"_Thanks. I should be 'pretty good' at it by now." Potter responded with a bit of edge to his voice, "I've been making breakfast since I was eight."_

"_Come off it." Draco had never prepared any of his food until he decided to live with the muggles. To think of eight year old spoiled Draco making breakfast was laughable._

_Potter shrugged. "It's true. I did the cooking and cleaning for my aunt and uncle up until Sixth year maybe."_

_Draco was a little shocked and scandalized. He may have had his differences with Harry Potter, but he was still the Boy Who Lived... relegated to the level of servant? Impossible. A little of his disbelief must have showed on his face because Potter laughed. "Shocking, isn't it?" He echoed Draco's thought. _

_They had continued eating for a few moments before Potter put his fork down. "When was the last time we ate together, Malfoy? Do you remember?"_

"_We _never _ate together, Potter, but" he continued before Potter could clarify. Draco knew what he meant, "It must have been Sixth Year…" A deadly silence fell over them and that awful tension from the coffee shop returned. Draco had a distinct feeling that they were standing at a precipice. On one side was their past, awful and dark and dreary. Full of pain and anger, and adolescence. One wrong push would undo everything they had accomplished this morning. On the other side was something equally terrifying, but for the opposite reasons. It was the unknown. There was a feeling of freedom and liberation on that side of the cliff. So the moment of truth then. Did Draco let himself slip backwards, as he so often did in times of trials, or did he move forward? Potter's green eyes were watching him, warily, and...hopeful? Eleven year old Draco suddenly reared its head. He had wanted to be friends with Potter years ago, before the animosity, before the War, before everything they were interfered. Was it possible to ignore all that, and start a new? Draco had never seen himself as brave, but he took a deep breath, putting the fork he hardly remembered holding down. "I think," he started slowly, "that if we are to continue this association," Draco waved as if he was trying to come up with a better word and failed, "there are certain subjects that need, no, must be left alone."_

_He thought Potter would object, saw the recognizable defiance on his face before it suddenly smoothed over, replaced with a thoughtfulness that matched his own. "I think," Potter echoed quietly, "You're probably right." He paused, "It goes against my better nature though, not to address something that is bothering me."_

_Draco laughed, "I wonder you don't get into more fights then."_

_Potter was about to take offense, but realized he wasn't being serious. Potter grinned, "You're a special case, Malfoy." _

_And then they were both laughing again. Not a forced laughter, not contrived, but genuine laughter. Sometime later Potter's clock in the all chimed again. "Is that ten then," Draco had lost count._

"_Eleven," Potter had replied._

"_Bugger," Draco had lost track of time. He pushed away from the table. "I'll be late to work."_

_Potter's eyes had widened. "Draco Malfoy _works?"

"_Yes, you git." Draco grabbed his coat and scarf and headed for Potter's door, hand lingering on the knob for a moment. "Thanks for breakfast, Potter." He went through the door, "It's been...surreal."_

_Potter leaned against his door frame, grinning like an idiot. "Sure." Draco had turned to leave, when Potter had called out his name. "Hey Malfoy?" He had half turned, indicating he was listening. "Want to have coffee tomorrow? Same place, same time? Without a scene this time?" _

_Draco's mind had almost shattered. It was one thing for he and Potter to have a strange day together, but two? He didn't know what else to say, except somehow the words, "It would be my pleasure," slipped off his tongue. Before Potter said anything else, Draco had disapparated away. _

And now he was at work. He glanced down at his glass desk top. Nothing had changed physically to his reflection. He still looked like Draco Malfoy. White blonde hair, a little too long in the front, but short in the back. Pale skin, light grey eyes. He touched his lip. He still felt like Draco Malfoy. So, why did everything feel so different.


	2. Chapter 2: To Coffee

**To Coffee, New and, Old Memories**

Harry left his shop early in the morning. Hackney, East London was already stirring, and Harry had wanted to get a jump on some last minute checking. His restaurant was already one of the more successful places to dine in this upcoming neighborhood, so he had decided to venture out into the world of catering. It was a whole different beast. When people came to his restaurant all the food and supplies were already there. For catering, Harry needed to be sure that everything went with him. Which is why he was double checking the orders one more time before finalizing them. This client could make or break it for Harry and he didn't want to miss this huge opportunity.

He forged through the crowd, hands in his pockets, letting his mind drift through a list of things he still needed to do. Get an outfit, was one. This party was a black tie affair, but Harry always struggled with formal attire. He passed a window shop and sighed. There was a really nice suit in the window, charcoal grey and shiny, but he was dubious it would look nice on him. Everything made him feel awkward and pretentious. He glanced at the name above the window: _Drake Black Designs_. He doubted that bloke had spent half his life in oversized used clothes. Not that Harry wore clothes like that anymore, just, it never seemed to matter and Harry always had others things to spend his money on.

Harry mentally shook his head and prepared for the day. In just a few moments he would be meeting none other than Draco Malfoy for coffee. Draco Malfoy. For coffee. He let that set in. _And _it had been his idea. A whim. He hardly expected Malfoy to agree, but he had and now they were going to see if their civility was a passing fluke, or just possibly, possibly, the grounds for a new...Harry didn't even know the word to describe it...Friendship?

He made it to the coffee shop just as the weather turned south and it started to drizzle. Turning his collar up he used the store's awning for cover, gazing around for a certain blonde haired man. Maybe he wouldn't show up. Maybe he thought better of it. The thought saddened Harry for a moment, but before he could analyze it a black umbrella was pushed in his face, spraying fine water droplets all over him. "Hey! Watch it!" He shoved the umbrella down, wanting to have a few more words, when slate grey eyes met his own. Draco Malfoy was already shaking the umbrella and closing it, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Morning Potter." He put the umbrella under his arm and held the door open.

Harry didn't know whether to glare or laugh. He settled for shaking his head and walking through the open door, "Good morning to you, too Malfoy."

Harry loved the smell of fresh coffee and he inhaled deeply, noticing that Malfoy seemed to have the same habit. They walked to the counter and one of the workers looked up briefly, "Good mornin' 'Arry! The usual?"

"Sounds good." Harry turned to Malfoy, "How about you?"

"Medium flat." There was a pause. "Please."

Harry echoed the order and paid the worker. "I'll bring 'em out in a minute."

Harry nodded and followed Malfoy as he sat in the same chair as yesterday, back against the wall. Malfoy seemed to scan the room before fully relaxing. Harry sat next to him, a little hesitant. He had mostly gone on instinct yesterday when conversing with Malfoy, but now, sitting together, he seemed to have formed a block in his throat. Harry grasped at the first thing that came to mind. "Awful weather we're having."

Malfoy scoffed and looked offended and Harry felt like a fool. "I am _not _talking about the weather, Potter."

"Well, what _do _you want to talk about?"

He saw Malfoy relax in his seat, chin resting on his knuckles, thinking. "I'm a bit surprised to see you living in muggle London. I'd like to hear about that."

"_That_ would take hours." Their drinks arrived and Harry thanked their waiter for them. Malfoy was holding his drink, warming his hands, but still fixed Harry with a very penetrating stare. Harry had the distinct impression that the blonde man would just wait Harry out. "How about an abridged version?" Malfoy tilted his head in what Harry believed to be acquiescence. Harry took a deep breath. "A few years ago I found myself wanting a change. I had made plans of course, to…" he looked around as people began filling in the coffee shop. He had to phrase his words carefully. "To follow in the career path I made at school, and I was good at it." In fact, Harry had some of the highest marks any Auror had ever had at the academy. He had been an Auror for three years, mostly hunting down Death Eaters, but somewhere along the way everything soured. He pushed one particular memory down and away.

"And?" Malfoy asked quietly.

Harry scratched the back of his neck. "I don't know, Malfoy. It was like I woke up one morning wanting to be a different person! Ginny was always wanting to get married; her parents practically had the whole event planned out, and _I didn't want it_." Harry had never spoken about this to anyone, but now he found he couldn't stop. "Everyday, whispers and people pointing and saying my name and parting around me. People I would never know, but seemed to know me. It become too much." He paused, looking down at his coffee, the foam swirling like his thoughts. "Do you know how it feels to be recognized _everywhere _you go, but to have no one know you?" The last part of his sentence was barely choked out and Harry was embarrassed to find himself so vulnerable, so exposed. He figured Malfoy would be sneering with disgust, waiting to berate him for being stupid, but when several moments passed Harry dared to glance up. Malfoy wasn't looking at him, but there was a strange emotion on his face.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Malfoy whispered, "I actually _do_ know what that's like." Their eyes met briefly and Malfoy gave a sad little smile. "So, you came here?" He offered.

"Yeah. At first, I didn't have a clue what I was going to do. I mean, I had money in the bank I figured I would take some time off." He took a sip of his coffee. "Apparently I don't do well with time to spare. I don't even remember how it happened. I was walking down the street and saw an opening for an assistant chef at one of the new diners. After a few months I was head chef." Harry shrugged trying to depreciate the moment. "After a few more months all the menu items were things I had created. That's when I decided to open my own place." Harry allowed himself to feel proud at that moment. "It's been really successful."

Malfoy looked a bit impressed. "What's it called?"

"_Seven Thirty One_."

There was a moment of shocked recognition. "I just read a review on it the other day." His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I don't seem to recall reading the name Harry Potter anywhere."

Harry made a face. "That's the last thing I wanted, my name known in both worlds. The restaurant is registered under James Evans."

Malfoy frowned briefly before apparently connecting the dots, then gave one loud laugh. "Brilliant." He snickered, "You named it after your birthday, though? How positively vain, Potter!"

"Hey!" Harry didn't protest too much and instead joined Malfoy. It was nice to laugh again, even if he was the one being laughed at. After they settled down, Harry decided it was his turn to ask the same question. "What about you? How did you end up here?" A dark shadow crossed Malfoy's face and Harry wondered if this would be one of those topics that Malfoy had alluded to; a topic that was taboo. He began to doubt the wisdom of his question, "If, if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine."

Harry's voice seemed to snap Malfoy out of his reverie and he took a deep breath. "No, it's fine." He didn't seem fine, but Harry stayed quiet. "After everything settled, the Malfoy name took a bit of a hit, as you can imagine. Though my father and mother were eventually cleared of any wrong doings it came at a price."

Harry tried to keep his face neutral, but struggled. He knew Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy traded in the name of Death Eaters to stay out of prison. He knew because we was tasked with hunting down many of the names they turned in. Instead of letting that anger consume him, Harry focused on what Malfoy was saying.

"Many of our accounts were frozen, property seized, family heirlooms and artifacts confiscated." Malfoy's hand clenched into a fist. "The once proud Malfoy name was in tatters, along with our bank account. Mother and Father thought it wise to leave England for a while. To "see the world" I believe was my mother's phrase. They asked me to come along, but I declined. I wasn't sure what I was going to do, but then my mother mentioned a muggle trust fund she had set up years ago. Ironically, the Ministry never checked the muggle banks. So, I found myself here."

Harry thought back to his first experience in the Wizarding World and could only imagine Malfoy trying to adapt the other way around. "That must have been strange."

"To say the least." Malfoy sighed. "Ah well, I had enough money to live on, but barely anything else. I think I learned a lot about myself that first year. No servants, no money, no _clothes_." He gave an exaggerated shudder. "Out of sheer desperation I began making my own new clothes out of old ones. A little magic" this word was whispered conspiratorially, "a little man power. At first it was just a hobby, but eventually it turned into a career."

That had to sink in for a moment before Harry's mind caught back up with Malfoy's mouth. "You...make clothes for a living?"

Malfoy smiled a genuine, if sarcastic smile. "Imagine. _Me_. Doing anything that requires real work. I have a new store open now," Malfoy leaned back and pointed out the window, "somewhere over there."

Harry suddenly remembered the fancy man's suit in the window, a small puzzle piece clicking in his brain. "Drake Black Designs!? That's you!?"

"The one and only." Some of the familiar arrogance came back into Malfoy's tone, but Harry decided to overlook it.

They were quiet for awhile. Each drinking their coffee, each to their own thoughts. It was similar to breakfast the other morning. The silence was not awkward, not forced, but more a companion between the young men. Both seemed to need time to digest what was told. How ironic, Harry thought, that after so many years of avoiding each other they would end up living and working in the same part of town, and not just any town, but muggle London. The world did really work in strange ways.

"Well, Potter," Malfoy interrupted his thoughts. "I need to be going. Work and such." He stood in one fluid motion that told of his upbringing and Harry awkwardly got to his feet, telling of his. Neither spoke, neither moved until Malfoy picked up his discarded umbrella and headed for the door. "So, same place, same time tomorrow?"

"I um, I can't." Harry was surprised how much that seemed to bother him. He saw Malfoy's face turn into a quick frown and then in a flicker it was replaced by indifference. Harry hated that expression. It was the expression he had seen one too many times at Hogwarts. He wanted this new Malfoy back, the one who was carefree with his expressions. "What about the day after?"

Malfoy seemed to thaw a little at that and lifted his umbrella to his brow in a sort of salute. "See you then." And then he apparated away, leaving Harry to cast a quick forgetting charm before leaving the coffee shop with a silly smile on his face.

_And so the unlikely friendship continued to grow. The more time spent together the less Harry saw Malfoy as a villain, or even as an enemy. There was more to him than the sneering, condescending prat he had been as a child and teenager. Those characteristics were still part of Malfoy, but tempered with an unexpected sense of humor and maturity. Harry even started differentiating between the two sides of his new friend. On days when the blond was infuriating and irritating, Harry called him Malfoy out loud and mentally. The days when Malfoy was actually pleasant to be around Harry found himself referring to him in his head as Draco, though outwardly continued to use the surname. The scales were tipping. More and more Harry found himself stuttering, making the mistake to call Draco by the more familiar name, for he was still being called Potter (though not with any noticeable venom)._

_They also found more in common with one another. A week after their first accidental meeting, Harry had let slip that he was a fan of soccer. Draco's face had lit up and became instantly animated, wanting to know who his favorite club was, his favorite player. Inevitably, this led to a competition._

The ground was heavily saturated from the relentless rain. Any leaves that still clung to the trees were doing so from sheer stubbornness; most had been blown away by the abnormally windy weather or washed away by torrents of rain. The sun was a small yellow disk trying to break through the grey sky, but was losing the battle. A fine mist clung to Weaver's Field, coating everything in a fine dew. Harry and Draco had been playing soccer for the past hour. Both were soaking wet, from sweat, rain, or both, it was impossible to tell. The game had started innocently enough: Harry in Manchester red and white, Draco in a mix of Chelsea blues, running from one end of the field to other. Harry was impressed. Draco had always seemed a lazy athlete to him, relying more on fancy equipment than actual talent, but it was obvious in the way he handled the ball that Draco knew how to play. And he was _good!_ Harry was hard pressed to keep up with the blond.

During one play, Harry had managed to sneak by Draco as he slipped and lost his footing. Harry was running, he was aiming, he was kicking, sure to score, when a misty figure materialized directly in front of the net, knocking the soccer ball away at the last second. Spinning around, Harry glared as Draco was putting his wand away.

"Oh come on! You know I would have made that!"

To get even, Harry created his own player that stripped the ball away on a return to Draco. Eventually both men had a full team of semi-autonomous misty players. In the current weather a muggle probably wouldn't even notice the phantom figures, but just in case Harry cast a repelling charm.

The game continued, more fierce than before. Harry was close to stealing the ball from Draco when a shoulder hit him hard in the sternum, knocking him backward. He tried to keep his balance but failed, flailing until he landed hard on the ground. Mud squished through his fingertips and splashed up his sides, soaking into his shorts.

"Yuck. Foul Draco!" Harry was a bit surprised when he said the other boy's name, but left it alone. Instead he tried shaking mud off his hands and legs, with various stages of success. A slender, white hand hoisted him up, and Draco grinned.

"I don't see any refs, Harry." He replied.

Harry's eyes widened, then he narrowed them. "There are still rules, you know."

Draco gave an elegant shrug. "I've never been much for rules."

"Isn't that the truth," Harry whispered under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

Both men were doing their best to keep their faces straight. Harry didn't expect a penalty kick, but was surprised when Draco passed him the ball to throw back in. The game was back on.

The weather soon turned. The fine mist they had been playing through all day solidified in larger drops. At first it was just a slight rain and then the sky darkened, the wind kicked up and sheets of water poured down over the entire park. Harry jogged over to Draco, hand shielding his eyes from the rain. "I guess that's that!"

"Suppose so."

"Well, I'm starving. Want to catch lunch?"

Draco glanced down at a watch on his wrist. "Sure. You're paying." Harry rolled his eyes. "But you can't go anywhere looking like that! You look like a filthy mongrel!"

Harry gave fake offense. "Speak for yourself! You look like a drowning cat!" After a moment, both laughed and pulled out their wands, banishing their extra players. By mutual agreement they would return to their own flats, change and meet up at Harry's before apparating for lunch.

Harry's choice of pub was respectful enough for Draco. A new establishment, the owners had prohibited smoking inside, a growing trend that Draco wholeheartedly agreed with. The bar was fully stocked behind a counter of thick wood and sapphire tile. Bar stools were situated at the bar, along a strip of counters against a wall, at tall pedestal tables. The decor was a bit rustic for Draco's personal taste (he'd never be fan of antlers as decoration), but overall it was a decent place that was already packed with people in various stages of drying off. He and Harry made their way through the crowd and found a couple of empty stools up against the counter.

"I'll be right back," Harry leaned closer to Draco so he could speak over the den, "I know the cook here."

Draco nodded and pulled out a stool, leaning against the counter so he could people watch. He threw his jacket over Harry's stool as more people came into the pub, shouting and waving at those they knew. A few gave Draco a strange glance. Most men seemed to be blue collar workers; they're idea of fashion being jeans and a T shirt. Draco knew he stood out, even though he wasn't wearing anything he would call ostentatious, just tailored pants and a light knit sweater over a dress shirt, his sleeves pushed up past his elbows. He _was _surprised when a young man with reddish blond hair shyly approached him asking to buy him a drink. Draco had been flattered, but politely declined.

The first time a man had tried to pick Draco up at a bar he had been completely and utterly clueless, he remembered with a bit of a smile. Growing up Draco hadn't even known what homosexuality was, let alone how prevalent it was in certain circles. His father and mother had been more interested in him marrying a witch from a pure-blooded family, even after the war and Voldemort's defeat. His mother _still _sent him owls inquiring when she might have grandchildren. Draco wasn't ashamed of his sexuality, but he also knew his parents wouldn't, or maybe couldn't, understand. During his first year living with the muggles, Draco had to make many adjustments to his worldview. One of the largest was his undeniable attraction to the same sex. After a little denial, copious amounts of drinking, and some temporary self loathing, he came out of the situation more secure in his own skin. It amused him how far he'd come.

Harry wove through the crowd, a pint of beer in each hand. "What's so funny?"

Draco took his beer and pulled his jacket off Harry's stool. "Just comparing my first year in London to now."

"Yeah? What was the biggest difference to overcome?"

Taking a drink of beer, Draco considered. "Everyone kept asking me for my number, or for my mobile. I had no idea what they were talking about." He brushed fingers through his hair, mortified to admit this next part. "I ended up owling the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office for help."

Harry's green eyes widened and then he started laughing. "You asked Mr. Weasley for information on muggles!?"

Draco could feel his cheeks redden. "I was desperate, alright? Shut up, Harry!" Though by now Draco was laughing as well. "At least I didn't send one of my relatives floating away."

A jaw dropped and then Harry was laughing again. "How did you hear about that?"

Thankfully their food was brought to them, saving Draco from answering. The rest of the evening was spent joking and laughing back and forth. Sometimes Draco was surprised at how easy it was _to _talk to Harry. He didn't have to over explain, didn't have to include a map to his inner thinking; Harry was able to keep up and still be an enjoyable conversationalist. Time tended to pass Draco by when he was in Harry's company. Eventually though, it came that both needed to leave. They left together, ignoring the heavy rain that continued to fall, and made their way to a back alley, out of sight of any muggles.

"Thanks for the food, Harry."

"Anytime. I'll see you later."

Draco waited a few moments after Harry apparated away, glancing to make sure there were no witnesses before he also apparated home.


	3. Chapter 3: To Bad Dates

**To Bad Dates**

It was a few days later when Draco heard from Harry again. It was past five in the evening and Draco was going over alterations with Brian, frowning as he flipped a shirt inside out to look at the seems. Draco thought the work was shoddy, Brian thought he was being dramatic and so they argued back and forth until Draco's attention was diverted by his mobile ringing. With a sigh Draco put the shirt over his shoulder and went to answer his phone, nearly dreading who he might find on the other side. Lately all his phone calls were about disasters and putting out fires. Running your own business was exhausting. Draco flipped his phone open without paying attention to the number. "Drake Black." Even trying he wasn't able to keep the irritation out of his voice.

"_Oh, um...hi, Draco. Bad time?"_

"Harry?" Draco smiled, suddenly not in such a bad mood. "No! It's just been a long day. What's up?"

There was a pause on the other line. "_I was hoping you could help with me something...if you have the time."_

"Of course. What did you need?"

"_Well, do you think you could meet me at my flat in a few?"_

"Sure. If I stay here much longer I'm likely to kill Brian."

Harry laughed. "_Be nice to him. Who knows why he puts up with you!"_

Draco was grinning as he turned toward Brian, who was watching him with his hands on his hips, curious. "Who knows. I'll be there in ten."

"_Thanks, Draco. Bye."_

"Bye, Harry." Draco closed his phone with a satisfying snap and tossed the shirt on his shoulder to Brian, who caught it as it flung into his face. "Alright, you win. Maybe I'm just overthinking the design."

Shock was on Brian's face. "That easy, huh? You're given in?"

Draco shrugged. "I'm going over to Harry's."

"Harry's huh?" Brian was watching Draco with a strange look on his face.

"Yeah...what of it?"

"Nothing," he said putting his hands up, but he didn't keep eye contact with Draco for long. "When do I get to meet him?"

Now it was Draco's turn to give him a strange look. "Why would you?" He wasn't really waiting for an answer. Rather, he waved as he walked off, missing Brian's perplexed and confused face.

Draco used the lift up to Harry's flat unaware that his face was lit up with a smile. He did know he was happy though. Harry would be a welcome addition to his frustrating day. With a quick rap he knocked on the door. It opened on its own as Draco heard Harry shouting from his room.

"Come in! Give me a few!"

Shrugging, Draco made his way to Harry's couch and flopped on it gracelessly, shoes hanging over one of the armrests. The couch was comfortable and Harry always had interesting magazines about wine, food and travel. Draco grabbed one and flipped through it, waiting patiently. Halfway through an engrossing article on different whiskeys Harry came into the living room. Draco glanced up and dropped the magazine. Harry had managed to catch Draco off guard. Harry stood looking flustered at the foot of the couch, hands to his sides. He wore a deep purple dress shirt and black slacks. It was the dressiest Draco had ever seen him and he sat up. A whistle escaped his lips, unbidden. "What's this?"

Harry made a face. "Hermione set me up on a blind date with some muggle woman. I don't know what the hell I'm doing!"

"So...you called me?"

"Of course I did. You're the fashion expert. So? How do I look?"

A strange, uncomfortable feeling was stirring in Draco's stomach. He pushed it down, not wanting to read too much into it and stood up, examining Harry's outfit as if he were scrutinizing a model. Detached and professional. "Hmm, it needs something." Draco snapped his fingers and pulled off a black silk tie he had been wearing loosely around his own neck. Stepping close to Harry, Draco could smell his shampoo or his soap. It was a very distinctive smell that Draco was starting to associate with Harry. Draco slipped the tie over Harry's head, and for just a moment met his bright green eyes. But only for a moment. His stomach did a strange flip again, hurrying Draco. With some concentration he managed to tighten the tie and straighten Harry's collar and then stepped back to appreciate his handiwork. It was just a tiny alteration, but the difference in appearance was startling. Looking back at Draco was a very adult Harry. It didn't quiet mesh with his internal eternal boyish image of Harry with glasses and messy hair. No, Harry grew up. Why that shocked Draco was harder to put into words. He felt like he was seeing two different people. Well, almost. This Harry still had messy hair.

Harry had been waiting expectantly and patiently for a comment. "Well?"

Draco bit his thumb. "Your hair is a mess."

"My hair is _always_ a mess," came Harry's exasperated response.

"Haven't you ever used product?" Draco asked with a laugh.

"Product?"

"Oh, hell. Gel? Hairspray? Something?" Draco touched his styled hair. "How do you think I get mine to stay?"

Harry looked sheepish. "Magic?"

"Idiot." Draco rolled his eyes as he walked into the kitchen and wet his hands in the sink and then ran his fingers through his own hair, taking off some of his gel. Harry had followed him, watching him curiously. "Come here." And Harry did, standing before him as Draco used his hands in an attempt to tame Harry's black mane. His hair was soft, Draco distractedly noticed as he pushed some back and to the side and others sightly forward. The lightning shaped scar just peaked out of the fringe. Harry was watching him quietly and Draco wondered what he was thinking. Not enough to ask him, though. Finished, he wiped his hands on his pants and took a step back. "There. Now you look ready."

"Thanks." Harry answered softly. He looked past Draco to a digital clock on the microwave. "I guess I should get going."

"Don't you want to see the final look?"

Harry paused, brows furrowed as he shook his head. "No. I trust you."

Draco felt flattered and altogether way too pleased. "Well, good luck then."

They apparated from Harry's flat at the same time. Where Harry went, Draco didn't know. Draco went home. He tried to do some book work, but that was a failure. All the numbers seemed to get jumbled up. Next he tried sketching a few outfits. That was a disaster too. He only seemed to draw a brown peacoat that was vaguely familiar and not at all up to his standards. There was a pile of correspondence that he had been avoiding; that might be worth his time. He sat down at his tall kitchen table and flipped through the letters, answering some and discarding others, losing track of time in the process. One was inevitably from his mother; he recognized her personal seal. Draco grabbed a knife from the kitchen and broke the wax seal, unfolding the parchment with his mother's elegant cursive. It read:

"_My dearest Draco,_

_As your twenty fifth birthday approaches I hope you have given some thought to your duty as a Malfoy. Your father and I both want so much for you to be happily wed and settled down this year. If you don't object, I have several young women in mind as a suitable match. I love you and believe this will be for the best. Please send your response as soon as possible._

_Your Loving Mother_

Draco crumbled the letter and threw it over his shoulder. Young women indeed. He'd already tried telling his parents about his sexuality several times in the past years and always he got some response like this. "_Settle down, marry, have a kid." _Stupid. Draco hadn't slept with a woman in years. Hell, he wasn't sure if he could anymore. He certainly didn't _want_ to. And no matter how many times he tried to explain it, his parents seemed delusional and determined not to believe that their son preferred the company of other men. Oh well. They were just going to have to have keep waiting for that "heir". Draco wasn't going to pretend to like a girl just for them. A little aggravated, Draco scooted back from the table. "I need a drink." He grabbed his coat and his mobile and headed down to the hotel's bar. Halfway there he dialed Brian. The phone rang a few times before Brian answered. "Hey, Brian. Come have a drink with me at the hotel."

"_It's a weekday."_ He said as a protest.

"That's true. But a wiseman once told me not to drink alone." Draco was grinning into the phone. Brian had told him that years ago when he was first having a hard time coping with sexuality.

"_And I still stand by that."_ Came his eventually reply. "_Can't this wait until the weekend?" _Draco remained silent until he heard a sigh. "_You're already there, aren't you?"_

"Yeah." Draco waved to a few workers as he sat at the bar. It was relatively quiet, only a few patrons and the tellys playing. "What can I order you?" Scott the bartender was already heading towards Draco.

"_Vodka tonic."_

"Will do. Better hurry before it gets weak." And then Draco snapped his mobile shut and placed it on the bar.

Scott was a rather handsome and regrettably straight man that had worked for the hotel for longer than Draco had been living there. He wore a black shirt which was a little too tight for his large frame. There was a white towel over his shoulder. "Evening, Mr. Black. What can I get for you?"

Draco slid onto the bar stool. "Whiskey and coke and when Brian gets here he'll have a vodka tonic."

"Sounds good." He busied away and a few moments later Draco had a old fashioned in his hands.

He tried to watch the televisions with little success. If it wasn't football or rugby he wasn't interested. Instead, he drank his whiskey, staring at the ice and caramel colored liquid. For some reason his thoughts kept going back to Harry. He was damned disappointed that he hadn't been able to hang out longer with him. Draco never bothered to have a lot of friends. Brian was his closest and still didn't know half of Draco's life story. He knew he went to a private school in Scotland (that was a bit of an inside joke for Draco) and Draco used that as an excuse when he acted against the muggle normal. Harry though, Harry understood Draco's past without ever having to ask him, being that he was there for most of it. Around Harry Draco didn't have to understand _every little _muggle nuance. That made their time together refreshing and double aggravating that Draco was forced to have drinks with Brian while Harry was off on some stupid date with a muggle.

Draco was halfway through his second drink when a hand clasped down on his shoulder and Brian took his seat next to him. He'd changed since work, into a more casual outfit. "How many is that?" Brian pointed suspiciously to Draco's drink as he accepted his own from Scott.

"Two," Draco said with some sass. "I'm behaving myself."

"Uh huh." Brian drank from his straw to avoid the ice. "I thought you were seeing Harry?"

Draco made a frustrated noise. "He's on some date."

"A date?"

"With some girl," Draco waved his hand as if he could make his whole sentence vanish. He was staring at his drink so he missed Brian's raised, surprised eyebrows.

"A girl?"

"Yeah. Stupid." Draco was sure he was more interesting than a muggle. "Well, have fun, Harry." Brian wasn't saying anything and just quietly sipping his drink. That always meant he was holding back his thoughts. "What?" Draco asked annoyed.

"Nothing."

Draco gave him a sour look and went back to his drink. He asked Brian for a drink to distract him, and it was not working. Worse, the way Brian was watching him out of the side of his eye made Draco think he knew he was a distraction. Then, like a light bulb clicking in his head, Draco realized his real problem. He was jealous. Somehow in his mind he'd lay a claim to Harry's friendship and time. That he was off with some girl wasn't necessarily the issue. He could have been with anyone else and Draco would still not have liked it. _What's wrong with me? _Draco mused. He should be happy for Harry; he was getting back out there, but secretly he wasn't. With a roll of his eyes he drowned the rest of his glass and signaled for another.

"Easy there," Brian said with concern. "You still have work to do tomorrow.

Draco ignored him, until he got his new drink. "I'll be there, don't worry."

"I'd rather you there not hungover. That reminds me…"

Thankfully Brian picked up their conversation from earlier. Now it was his turn to think Draco was right all along about the quality of stitching on the chartreuse blouses. They bounced around some ideas to fix it and then continued to talk about the rest of line until Brian glanced down at his watch, shaking his head.

"I'm headed home." He got off the bar, tossing a few notes for a tip. "Don't stay here all night."

"I won't," Draco answered petulantly. He felt Brian squeeze his shoulder and he gave him a crooked grin. "I promise, alright? Now go to bed old man."

Brain feigned offense. "See you tomorrow."

Draco waved without looking. Now he was alone and still not in the mood to go back to his flat and all the spacious emptiness. Lazily he was spinning his glass on the bar when he noticed his mobile light up. Curiously he answered it. "Drake Black."

"_I'm so glad you're still awake!"_

Draco sat up straighter, a grin on his face. "Harry? I thought you were on a date?"

"_Oh my God. It was a disaster. Want to hear about it?"_

"Of course." Draco replied as he laughed.

"_Come over?"_

"Already on my way." Draco motioned for his drinks to be put on his tab and then he headed to the private lift for residents. It would be easier to apparate there _and _it would look like he went to bed.

"_Just come in then."_ Then Harry hung up.

On a whim, Draco doubled back and bought the rest of the whiskey he'd been drinking and _then _went back to the lift. Draco enjoyed living in muggle London, but he was sure he'd never give up apparition. It made life so much easier. Within minutes he was back at Harry's flat. He knocked politely and came straight in.

"Hey!" One of Harry's hands stuck up from the couch. Draco couldn't see him yet. Instead of heading to the living room, Draco first grabbed some glasses and filled them with ice from the freezer. "What are you doing?" Harry asked curiously.

"It's a surprise." Draco poured them the whiskey; a bottle of Rare Breed he'd been drinking at the bar for a while. Back in the living room, Draco smiled as he handed Harry a drink. He was sitting at one end of the couch, leaning against the armrest, bare feet on the cushions. His slacks were rolled up, the tie loose and a couple buttons undone on his shirt. Draco sat at the other end of the couch, toeing off his shoes to mirror Harry's position. He held up the glass. "To disasters."

"Amen." Harry took a sip and then coughed, eyes watering. "Jesus, Draco, how do you drink this?" And yet he took another sip.

Draco tapped Harry's foot with his own. "So? Just how bad was this date?"

"Ridiculously bad," Harry said with a groan. "Hermione knows her from somewhere. I took her to Pied-a-Terre." Draco whistled impressed. Harry grinned and sipped his drink, a conspiratorial smirk on his lips. "The chef owed me a favor." That made a bit more sense. Draco imagined it would be difficult to get into a restaurant of that caliber without pulling some strings, real or purse. "Do you know she argued about the ingredients? With me!" Draco laughed out loud at Harry's indignation. "And did you know Pedro Ximenez is apparently Bordeaux."

Now Draco really was laughing. "Stop!"

"No, you asked for it." They both were laughing and took another swallow of the whiskey. "I don't know what was wrong with her. Oh, our cuttlefish must have been misnamed because she was sure it was haddock."

"Harry! No!"

"So awful." Harry gave his whiskey an odd look and the just downed it in a messy gulp, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "One more?"

"You might regret it," Draco replied, but he took the glass and refilled it anyway before rejoining him on the couch.

"Thank you." This time Harry took a more reasonable drink. "Oh well. I'm glad it's over. What did you do today?"

"The normal. Argue with Brian, ignore a letter from my mother, etc etc etc."

"Why would you ignore your mom?"

Draco hesitated. "Let's just say we have difference of opinions."

"Fair enough. Hang on," Harry put his drink on the coffee table. "Be right back."

Draco watched him as he seemed to have trouble navigating the small distance from the living room to the hall. "Be careful."

"Yeah, yeah."

While Harry was gone Draco stretched out the whole length of the couch. It wasn't _as_ comfortable as his own, but it still had a homey charm to it. Draco set his glass down, and closed his eyes.

"I said I'd be right back, not to take a nap." Harry had come back into the room and nudged Draco's feet back so he could sit again.

"I'm awake." Draco opened his eyes. They widened when he saw Harry again. He had changed into pajamas, a loose t shirt and cotton argyle pants of green and blue. It was very casual. He was holding out Draco's tie for him, but Draco shook his head. "Keep it. I have others."

Harry shrugged and placed it on the coffee table. "Anyway, I had no idea how to end the date. She kept going on and on. Even after I paid. We were standing outside and she just talked on, and all I could do was stand there like a fool."

Draco laughed again. He could imagine that. "What did you do?"

Harry took a sip of the whiskey. "Eventually I shook her hand, said goodnight, got into the closest cab and came home." For a moment they were just watching each other and then they both broke out into laughter. Harry managed his laughter first. "Come on, your turn. You must have had a bad date before."

"One or two." Draco conceded. Harry blinked expectantly, grinning over his glass. "Oh hell, let me think." Draco's thinking process involved taking a gulp of whiskey. He never told Harry he was gay and for some odd reason didn't plan to tonight. So this particular story would have to be edited slightly. "Well, I had a date once that considered themselves quite a fashionista." Draco remembered this man quite well. He was dark haired and blue eyed and very fetching, and with the worst taste in clothing. "They spent half the dinner explaining to me why DB Designs was overrated and over expensive and how it would never amount to anything."

Harry's eyes were wide. "What did you say?"

Draco shrugged. "Nothing. I just made sure to show my ID when I paid for the dinner." Harry laughed. Of course, Draco was omitting a few more details. Like, he went ahead and slept with that man. Draco couldn't remember his name now, nor was he bothered to try. He had been an attractive man and a decent lay. That was all that had mattered at the time. Now, well. Draco wasn't sure he'd do the same anymore. He wanted something more. Something lasting. Just, no one seemed to do it for him. A loud clock chimed in the hall and Draco counted until twelve, shaking his head. "Honestly, that thing is a monster."

Childishly, Harry stuck his tongue out as he raised his glass. "Here's to bad dates, then."

"Bad dates," Draco echoed. He took a swallow, emptying his glass and placing it on the coffee table, a random idea popping into his head. "Why don't we have dinner together sometime? I certainly know the difference between cuttlefish and haddock."

Harry finished his drink, setting it next to Draco's, and then resting his head against the sofa as he thought. "That could be fun." Harry gave Draco a half smile and soon his eyes were closing.

Draco never remembered falling asleep. One minute he was talking to Harry and the next he was disoriented as a clock chiming the hour woke him up. He had at one time stretched out on Harry's couch, legs against the cushions, head resting on the arm rest. Sitting up a bit he could see Harry was still asleep, turned on his side. Draco's feet were tucked under Harry's, effectively pinning him down. Draco reached forward and shook one of Harry's legs as he tried to sit up "Harry? Hey, Harry." Harry moaned and turned over, face hidden by the corner of the couch. Draco chuckled in his throat. "Harry, I have to work tomorrow. Are you sleeping on the couch then?" He was gently lifting Harry's legs so he could slide his legs out from under him.

Harry lifted his head and glanced over his shoulder, green eyes bleary with sleep. "Wha?"

"Come on. I'll help you down the hall." Draco got to his feet and managed to pull Harry up into a sitting position. He was pretty out of it; either half asleep and half drunk or completely drunk. Draco gave him a moment to snap out of it. He wasn't a very good nurse; didn't have the patience for it. Draco extended his hand and after a moment of staring at it Harry grabbed it and hoisted himself to his feet.

"What time is it?" Harry's voice was clearing. To Draco that meant he wasn't completely smashed, though he did lean on Draco and had a hard time walking straight as they made their way to the hall.

"I don't know. Your stupid clock woke me up though." Draco wanted to kick the tall grandfather clock as they neared. Instead he squinted in the dim hallway. "A little past three."

Harry groaned. "I have to get up early."

"So do I," Draco lamented. They were close to Harry's room. Draco steadied Harry as he reached out to lean on the hallway wall. "Got it from here?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. And Draco?" He half turned to see Draco paying attention. "Thanks for coming over."

Draco smiled. "Any time Harry. Night."

"Night."

Still smiling Draco apparated home, indescribably happy. Though being half drunk himself, he didn't dwell on that feeling. No, he just changed in pajamas and collapsed on his king sized bed. A soft smile was still on his lips as he fell asleep.

Draco forced himself to wake up on time and to take a shower. His head hurt and he _was _hungover, but damned if he was going to give Brian the satisfaction of saying 'I told you so'. Just to prove a point he hurried so that he would be first at the warehouse. He'd just managed to get the lights on and turn on the sewing equipment when Brian came in, shrugging off his jacket.

He looked amused at Draco. "In a better mood, I see."

"What?" Draco's brain was foggy and slow and didn't catch the meaning.

Brian motioned to Draco's outfit. "Green and greys. You only wear green when your in a good mood."

Draco glanced down. He hadn't really been paying attention to his clothes this morning, nor did he realize he was so predictable. It made him a little grumpy. "It's just clothes."

"Sure, Drake." Brian rolled his eyes and walked toward a phone. A red light was blinking on it and he hit the button to hear the message.

"_Hey Drake, Brian. It's Marissa down at Langley's." _Draco came closer. Langley's was one of their fabric suppliers. "_There's been a bit of a mix up. The cerulean you ordered was delivered as cyan and the charcoal tweed has been delayed. I don't know when it's going to get here. I reached out to a couple of suppliers though. Sorry guys. Call me and let me know what you want me to do." _The machine beeped indicating the end and Brian erased it, glancing at Draco.

"Shit." This was not what Draco wanted to deal with on sleep deprivation and a hangover.

"What me to deal with it?" Brian offered.

"No. Get the team working. I'll be in my office trying to work a miracle."

Draco worked through the morning and most of the afternoon trying to fix the fabric mess. One shop was willing to trade the cyan for the cerulean, but not at a straight trade. Cerulean dye cost more. If Draco wanted it he was going to have to pay for it. That irritated him. The reason he had gone with Langley's is because they offered the cerulean at a discounted price. If he bothered Langley's enough they'd pay the difference, but that wasn't the point. He reached out to every supplier he knew, coming up empty each time. Aggravated he accepted the trade. Thankfully the supplier for the charcoal tweed owed Langley's a favor and that _was _a straightforward trade. Unfortunately, the delivery dates were going to make it tight. They'd have have to finish before New York, but not without some magical assistance. Which meant late, late, late nights for Draco.

Sighing, he leaned forward and just now noticed the doodles he'd been drawing on a few scratch pieces of paper. He'd been drawing a pair of eyes, wide open, trusting, kind. They were familiar eyes and Draco knew if they were in color the irises would be a deep green. Draco frowned and for some reason scribbled over the drawing. It made him uncomfortable, seeing those eyes, though he couldn't say why. However, it did remind him that he had suggested dinner sometime with Harry this week. Damn though, with all this work, he wasn't sure he'd get a chance. He picked up his mobile and speed dialed Harry. It rang a few times and then Harry's voice answered.

"_Hello, this is Harry."_

He sounded sluggish. Draco grinned. "You sound like I feel. How's the head?"

"_Awful." _Though Draco noticed more energy in his voice. "_And apparently today is the day when nothing works."_

Draco softly laughed. "Sounds like here. Which is why I called. I'm drowning in work. I don't think dinner is going to happen this week."

"_Oh. Well, that's alright. I understand." _Of course he would, Draco thought. He could still hear the disappointment in Harry's voice.

"New York will be here before I know it." Draco still felt like he needed to explain. For some reason he felt like he was breaking a promise with Harry and it left a bad taste in his mouth.

"_No! I get it. Fashion Week's a big deal." _There was a pause. "_Do you want to try and catch coffee tomorrow at least?"_

That brightened Draco's whole perspective, but reality stepped in, quashing that idea. "I don't think I can."

There was a long pause before Harry spoke again, disappointment in his tone. "_Well, that's alright, I know this is important." _

"Sorry, Harry."

"_I understand, really I do. Well, good luck Draco. I have to go fix an oven. I'll...well, I'll try to talk to you soon."_

"Yeah," Now it was Draco's turn to sound disappointed. Bye Harry." Draco hung up, feeling worse than he had before he talked to Harry. But hell, the disappointment, the sorrow, all of it was going to have to take a back seat. If they didn't get busy they'd never make the New York deadline.


	4. Chapter 4: To Unobvious Beginnings

_**Just a few words. I'm not British. Every attempt I made at using snogging instead of kissing sounded pretentious and forced. Also, we're getting into some slash, so if that's not your thing, move on over or get used to it. **_

**To Unobvious Beginnings**

A week later and Draco was at a bar with his workers. After many long and exhausting nights, Drake Black Designs had finished all the outfits to be shown during New York's Fashion Week. Everyone was exuberantly celebrating. Beer kept flowing, trays of food kept coming and Draco pointedly ignored how much this celebration was going to cost him. It didn't matter! They were ready for New York! Draco was several pints of beer in when Brain staggered over to him, raising a glass in a salute. Draco met the glass and they both took large swigs.

"So where is this Harry tonight?" Brian put his elbows on the bar, oblivious to puddles of spilled beer on the surface.

"Harry? What about him?" Draco's mind was a tad fuzzy.

His friend shrugged. "You've mentioned him at least," he pretended to count his fingers, "ten times a day. Thought he'd be here."

"What are you talking about!"

Brian blinked and eyed Draco in a way that made him slightly uncomfortable. Like he saw something that was obvious, but out of Draco's reach. Brian shrugged. "Nevermind, Drake. Cheers!"

The celebration continued late, past the normal operating hours of the pub (Draco had paid to have the pub open until at least 2:00 AM). Soon workers, bleary eyed, drunk, and happy began heading home. Draco had long stopped drinking. He wasn't exactly _sober_, but nor was he stumbling drunk like the others. Brian needed help into a cab, several were walking elbow to elbow down the street toward different flats. Draco stayed until everyone was gone, settling the tab with an inward groan. For once, the rain had abated. Stars were out, the air was crisp, and Draco decided to walk the few blocks to his flat.

It took him longer to realize that he was being followed than he liked to admit. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, his skin crawled. _Not again..._He thought these attacks had stopped. Glancing around, Draco suddenly felt like a fool. There was no place to hide, no place to use as cover, the alley he was walking through had tall brick walls all around. One weak light flickered above a window casting odd shadows down to the ground making it hard to discern what was real and what was not. A shoe scuffed the ground toward the entrance of the ally and Draco pulled out his wand, ready for battle.

"Come on then!" He shouted defiantly. The other attempts on his life had failed; he wasn't about to go down without a fight. A figure started to emerge out of the shadows. Draco was prepared for a volley of spells, not willing to lower his guard yet. The shape was that of a man, vaguely familiar. As the sandy blond hair came into focus, Draco lowered his wand, glancing around nervously. "Steven!?"

"Hey Drake." He closed the distance, hands in coat pockets. "You ok?"

Draco crossed his arms, trying to replace his wand discreetly. "How long have you been following me?"

"I saw you leaving the pub. You looked a little drunk. I've been trying to catch up to you for a while now."

"What do you care? You threw _me _out, remember?" Draco turned away and began walking again, wanting to put some distance between him and his ex. A hand grabbed his elbow, stalling him.

"Maybe that's what I wanted to talk about." Draco shook off Steven's hand, looking at him sideways, but didn't continue to walk, unintentionally giving Steven a false hope. "Maybe I want you back."

"No." Draco tried not to snort, but the contempt was evident.

Steven glowered, eyes flashing in quick anger. "Is it the other man?"

"What other man?" He thought back on his evening, frowning slightly in thought. "You mean Brian?" Draco clicked his tongue, "You know we're just friends."

"No, not Brian." Steven took a step closer to Draco, too close for comfort. "I saw you, the other day having coffee. You were with a young man, brown hair, green eyes. Are you seeing him?"

_Brown hair, green eyes? _"Harry?" Realization struck Draco as if from a physical blow.

"Is that his name?" Steven whispered softly.

"You have the wrong idea. Harry and I are just friends."

Steven's expression mirrored Brian's from earlier in the evening, like they both knew something that Draco didn't and it irked him. "Really? It seemed more than that. You were so familiar with him."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I've known him since school. Harry is just a friend!"

"_We_ were friends, Drake, but you never acted like that."

The alcohol was making Draco tired, chilly, and less inclined to follow the general flow of conversation. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You were _happy_. I'd never seen you like that."

Unsure how to reply, Draco remained silent. It wasn't in his nature to revisit ex-lovers, especially when they pushed him aside. His patience was always a little thin, but now officially spent. "Are we done here? As much as I've enjoyed our little chat, I'd like to go home." Steven said nothing, staring at his feet. Draco sighed and turned to walk away. "Good bye, Steven."

"You're not good enough for him."

Draco froze, standing ramrod straight. "Excuse me?"

"You're. Not. Good. Enough."

Not quite believing his ears, Draco slowly spun around. How often had he heard those same words growing up. How often was he being compared to some ideal standard and falling short. There were very few words Draco hated hearing more. Without realizing, his hands balled up into fists.

Apparently, Steven did not see the anger in Draco's eyes, did not realize how close he was to pushing him over the edge. Hurting him was now the goal. "Everything you touch ends up broken. You'll only damage him."

**KRaaCK!**

Steven dropped to the ground, hard, with a thud, and Draco grabbed his right hand in pain. "Shit." Already the knuckles were turning splotchy purple, swelling badly enough that the individual knuckles weren't visible. He tried opening his fist. Pain shot down to his elbow, a hiss escaped his lips. _Dammit. _His hand was surely broken. Draco knew next to nothing about muggle medicine. The only wizarding hospital he knew was St. Mungo's, but he refused to go back there. That left him in a bit of a lurch. _You know someone who has medicine, _he thought to himself. _But its really late..._He tried flexing his hand again. Was it possible the pain was getting worse? He bit his lip. A random sharp pain throbbed up his arm, making his decision obviously clear.

Steven was holding his jaw, face down, blood dripping in the alley gutter. "You bastard!" He snarled through clenched teeth.

A small petty part of Draco's mind wanted to leave him there, consequences be damned. Reason eventually won out. With a rough grab, he snatched Steven's prone arm and apparated to his apartment. Inside the flat Draco basically threw Steven down (ignoring his confused expression), and with a sneer began casting a Memory Modifying Charm. Holding his wand for the incantation was excruciating. In a bit of inspired revenge, Draco implanted that Steven fell down a flight of stairs, thus sustaining the bruise and broken jaw. Once done, he gathered his energy and apparated to Harry's flat.

Restive sleep was a precious commodity to Harry, and not something he got to experience often. As a child he had been sent to bed hungry on so many occasions he had lost count. His cupboard under the stairs was dirty, drafty, and all he had ever known, but not conducive to sleep. As a teenager he had Voldemort's emotions and visions to contend with. Watching innocent people getting murdered and reliving the death of your parents over and over again did not lend itself to restful nights. Even his few short years being an Auror had left its mark. So it was with great irony that on the _one_ night Harry was dreamlessly sleeping he was awoken by knocking on his door.

Half asleep, but quickly becoming more alert, he slipped on some loose pants and grabbed his wand before making his way through the dark apartment. The knocking continued again, a quick succession: rap rap rap. Someone was trying to get his attention _and _stay quiet. With light from a whispered _lumos _Harry peered through the peephole. Nothing was immediately visible, but out of the corner of his eye he saw a shock of blond white hair. He knew two people with such hair, but only one would ever be at his door. Quickly he unlocked and opened the door. Draco was leaning listlessly against the frame, one hand holding the other in an awkward grasp. Harry gasped when he focused on the dark, black, purple bruises. "Draco, what did you do! Come in!"

With a pained breath Draco made his way to the couch. "I don't really want to talk about it right now."

"Alright." No one valued privacy more than Harry. If Draco wanted to tell him the whole story he would in time. In the meanwhile, Harry would tend to the injury. "Let me see." Draco weakly held his swollen and discolored hand up. With careful fingers Harry prodded up the hand, stopping whenever Draco either paled, closed his eyes, or gave any other indication of pain. Harry gingerly released Draco's hand. "Give me a second. I have some Skele-Gro, just let me find the dosage for small breaks." Harry rushed into the kitchen after what he assumed was a noise of agreement. In one of the lower cupboards Harry kept a near full stock of useful potions, powders and ingredients. Though he _could_ brew potions well enough, most of the collection had been purchased in Diagon Alley. He pulled out a healing book and flipped to the pages containing information on bone healing. Harry never could get the greatest grasp on healing magic. The only spell he knew caused excruciating pain as it healed. He also had experience being muted once in a battle as an Auror. That experience had led him keeping potions at the ready. It took only a few moments to find what he was looking for and with great satisfaction he snapped the book shut. Out of a higher cupboard he grabbed three cordials, perfect vial sized glasses. He reached into his refrigerator for grenadine and poured the sticky, syrupy liquid into two of the glasses. In the last glass he poured the skele-gro; the potion bubbled and fizzed, a sign that it was still potent.

Harry carried all three drinks back to the living room and set them before Draco, who was looking even more pale than usual. Draco's face turned up at the sight of the potion. "Drink this first," Harry pointed to the grenadine, "it helps with the bitterness. Take the potion, and then take this again."

"Yes Madam Pomfrey," Draco replied with a grimace and then he rolled his eyes. Still, he followed Harry's instructions, coughing and choking as he tried to swallow the vile tasting potion.

"It's awful, isn't it?" He said sympathetically as he moved to his rocking chair. Draco was lying back on the couch, eyes open, but not particularly looking at anything. It was evident he was bothered, but Harry wasn't sure how to broach the topic. If it had been Ron he would have forced the redhead to tell him. Draco was different though. Harry had the distinct impression that he and Draco were similar in ways they dealt with personal issues. Meaning, their own thoughts had to be clear before they were ready to share. So, Harry pulled his knees up to his chest and waited.

He might have dozed off when Draco's quiet voice finally cut through the silence. "Do you miss her?"

One quick heartbeat for understanding, "Ginny?"

Draco nodded.

Harry scratched his neck. "I don't know," he replied with honesty.

"Sometimes...but really, I think I just miss the memory of her."

It was quiet again, but not for long before Draco whispered, "I don't miss any of them," with a vehemence that surprised Harry a little.

"Does that bother you?

"It didn't use to." There was a deep shuddering breath, whether from physical or emotional pain Harry was unsure. "I don't think I have ever _missed _anyone in my life. No one misses me, or _would _miss me if I vanished."

And yet that prospect upset Harry. He thought of his new life without Draco in it and felt oddly hollow. It was a strange and startling realization. "I'd miss you," he said softly.

"Sure, until one of us is reminded of who we are, who we used to be," he was flexing his left hand, still refusing to meet Harry's gaze.

Harry thought about that before answering. Draco had changed so much since their days in school, but in some ways was exactly the same. Malfoy the boy had challenged Harry, while simultaneously bullying him. Draco the man _still _challenged Harry, just without the maliciousness. Every conversation, every time they met, Draco kept Harry on his toes. Yes, there were parts of each others' lives that they had not delved into, but suddenly that didn't seem so important. Malfoy, the aloof, condescending, arrogant boy wasn't in his apartment. Rather, it was Draco his friend. His very real friend, needing something, needing reassurance. Harry was determined to give it to him. "You're right Draco." there was a flicker of shock and hurt on Draco's face that Harry ignored, "We _both _have experiences we'd rather not talk about. But, what does it matter?" He held up a hand to stall Draco's reply. "I've known you nearly my whole life. In all that time you've always made me try harder at whatever I was doing." He purposefully omitted that most of the time he was trying to _stop _Draco. That was best left unsaid. "And, now...well, you and I are a lot alike. We probably would have been friends if things had been different." He shook his head again as Draco tried to interrupt again, "No, listen first. Things are different _now. _We _are_ friends now." Harry had been watching Draco's expressions. At first, his eyes had been avoiding contact. Eventually the cold facade faded to bewilderment. Currently he was watching (finally) Harry with a mixture of bemusement and humor. Harry was unsure how long he had been able to read Draco so clearly, but he could, and it only cemented his belief that their friendship was solid. He finished his abnormally long speech with an honest, "You're probably my best friend."

Draco dropped his legs off the couch and sat up. His eyes, so tired, flat and dead before had regained some of their sparkle. "You done, then?" The words were harsh, but the tone soft. Harry gave a single nod, nearly missing the decorative pillow lobbed at his head. He caught it with a huge grin as Draco rolled his eyes. "You're an idiot, Harry...but, thank you." The clock in the hall chimed four and Draco grimaced. "How do you sleep with that thing going off all the time!" Without waiting for Harry's reply, Draco stood in a single flowing movement that was distinctly his own. He flexed both hands.

"Is it healed?"

"Well enough to go home," Draco replied with a shrug as he headed toward the door. Harry followed a few feet behind. Draco's hand paused on the knob. He kept his face turned slightly away, so it was hard to see his expression. "Harry…" Draco took a long pause, so long that Harry thought maybe he forgot what he was going to say. He was startled when Draco crossed the threshold and met him face to face. Draco being slightly taller, was looking down at Harry when he finally spoke again. "I'd miss you too." Being on the outside of Harry's wards, Draco was able to apparate away before Harry could reply.

With a smile, Harry locked up his apartment once more for the night. The room felt oddly empty now. Being alone never bothered Harry that much, he spent his entire childhood alone. Alone had never been lonely. And yet, at that moment Harry _was_ lonely. He acutely missed Draco's presence and he hadn't even been gone five minutes. Maybe the silence bothered him more than he let on. Maybe that was the real reason he kept the grandfather clock. It was a regular sound that helped break up the silence. Strange. He could never remember feeling this way before, so why now? He saw the cordials again, imagining a certain blond lounging on his couch like he owned it. Warmth spread through his body, from his cheek to his toes. For whatever reason, thinking of Draco in his apartment helped Harry fight off the loneliness. He eventually fell asleep with Draco's face floating in his memory.

_Long, slender fingers trailed up his side, sending shivers with each slow movement. The paleness made a stark contrast with his darker skin as each hand stroked his chest, his shoulder, his neck. His own hands were following the shape of muscles, strong and stable, from shoulders to back in one sensual caress. A mouth, warm and inviting captured his own and Harry lost himself in a flood of new sensations. Too soon they separated. Two light blue eyes, practically silver, gazed at him with such intensity that it threatened to take Harry's breath way. Strong hands pulled him tighter, as a voice whispered, "Harry." Only one person made Harry react so viscerally to just his name. Only one person could say so much with a single word. And when he pulled Harry down, Harry followed, allowing a breathless "Draco" to be the last word spoken._

Harry wrenched himself awake, leaning forward in his bed, each breath coming out in short gasps. Sweat coated his body and he was painfully aroused. The sheets were bunched up in his hands and for several moments Harry just focused on calming his breathing and gaining back control of his body. A grey diffused light was just beginning to creep through the window blinds, enough to see the outline of his hands as he brushed his bangs out of his eyes. Every scene, every touch, every sensation of the dream was still with him, his mind starting and stopping unsuccessfully to make sense of it all. Dreams for Harry had two basic purposes: to relive the past or to shape the future. If this was any indication of dormant feelings Harry had hidden deep, deep within his subconscious, they roared to the surface now, because one thing was very clear in the emerging daylight: Harry wanted that dream to become a reality. That shock sent ice down his back, breath stalling, body frozen still.

Mindlessly and numb Harry made his way to the kitchen to pour some coffee. The hot cup helped a bit, at least staring at the liquid gave him something to focus on. It was bizarre; Harry _knew_ he was having an existential crisis, _knew_ that everything he had ever known about himself was crumbling away, and the only thing keeping him from completely losing it was staring at a cup of coffee. The irony that coffee, a damned cup of coffee, was what got him into this mess was not loss on him either. A litany was playing itself on repeat in his mind, "_What? How? What? How?" _He never got much further than the "what". There were too many questions right now that started with "what".

He wasn't sure how long he sat at his kitchen table. Long enough for the coffee to be cold. He also wasn't sure how long someone had been knocking at his door, but now that he heard it, trepidation set in. What if it was Draco? Maybe he could just pretend to be out. That was cowardice, but safer. There was no way Harry could face Draco right now. The knocking continued before a voice shouted through the door, "Harry!

Harry jumped up in recognition. "Hermione!" He rushed to open the door, unexpectedly happy to see his friend.

Hermione blew a bit of unruly hair out her face as she came in, hands full of familiar looking menus. "I almost gave up on you." Always full of energy, Hermione briskly walked to the kitchen, pausing at the table. "Still in your pajamas, Harry?"

"Uh, yeah...sorry."

"Long night?"

The dream came back, nearly full force, like a bludger to the head, and it took every bit of self control Harry had not let his vivid imagination run away with him. Instead, he took a deep breath to stand next to his friend. The menus on his table _were _familiar, being from his own restaurant and finally Hermione's presence was explained. "Oh, we were supposed to be going over items for the party, weren't we?"

Hermione furrowed her brow, "You alright, Harry? You seem a little off today." Harry hesitated. He knew Hermione was asking in general terms, but the question still nearly unraveled his very tentative grasp on his self control. "Alright," she said pulling out a chair, "what is going on."

A nervous laugh escaped Harry as he sat across from Hermione, back to his cold cup of coffee, which he pushed away. "What are you talking about?"

"Harry, you have never been able to keep secrets from me for long."

_Ha! _Not only was Harry keeping one massive secret, but two. Which one would be more the shocking, he wondered? That he was friends with Draco Malfoy, or that he wanted to sleep with him? _Oh dear God… _Heat spread up his neck to his scalp, forcing him to drop his face in hands to save the small bit of dignity he had left.

"Harry!"

Maybe talking it over with someone would help. Hermione was the most understanding of his friends. Logic tended to rule her judgement rather than emotions and she was always willing to listen and help Harry. In fact, it was to Hermione he confided first that his relationship with Ginny was on the rocks. But this...this...saying _everything _out loud would make it true. Harry's sanity at the moment rested solely on the little bit of doubt that he clung to; that maybe, _just _maybe, this was all a huge cosmic joke. The truth was too raw to openly explore. However, Harry was great at compartmentalizing. He'd shove some of his feelings down, _way_ down, and see if Hermione could offer any suggestions.

"I...I've made a new friend," Harry began after a few false starts.

"Ok," Hermione prompted with her tone.

"And, I, um, may be developing…" Harry's brain mentally short circuited as an image from the dream vividly popped into his mind, "stronger feelings than I'm ready for," he finished in a rush. All of that was true. So far so good.

"Well, what does this friend think? How does she fell?"

Harry inwardly winced, but he thought he managed to keep a straight face. A straight face...did he even have a straight face anymore? He groaned into his hands once again. "I don't know Hermione. We haven't even been friends that long. How would I know?" He asked as he peeked through his fingers.

Hermione shrugged. "Little things I guess. The way she acts. Does she like spending time with you? Do you like the same things?" Hermione watched Harry's expression, even though his face was partially hidden by his hands she could still see different emotions flashing from his eyes: panic mostly. Harry never did have an easy time dealing with his feelings. Neither of them actually had much dating experience. Harry had that disastrous fling with Cho Chang at Hogwarts. More recently he had been involved with Ginny Weasley. Hermione had been the first person to see the cracks in that relationship and the first to know of it's imminent ending. Through it all, she'd never seen Harry so unhinged. Harry was far away now, glancing down at the table, eyes glazed over. Whoever this person was, she had a feeling Harry had deeper feelings than he was letting on. She decided to pry just a bit. After all, Harry was her friend. "What does she look like? Is she pretty?"

Almost against his wishes an image of Draco came to mind. The strong cheekbones, the silver eyes, the blond hair falling over his brow, his lips turned up in that slight grin that he had; every inch of Harry's body came alive. The little bit of hope Harry had that this was all a mistake vanished as he held onto that image. A new understanding settled over him, grounding him. This was his new reality. He didn't ask for it, didn't even know he wanted it, but he was becoming more conscious that a decision within himself had been made. Hermione's question still hung in the air and Harry finally had an answer. "Beautiful," he said breathlessly and honestly. Draco was beautiful, and Harry wanted him. The more Harry was confronted with this fact, the better he felt.

"What are you going to do then?"

"I don't know," he rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly very tired. "I guess I'll have to find out if they feel the same." That prospect terrified Harry almost as much as his own feelings. What would Draco say? What would Draco do?" He thought of their first meeting that ended in a fistfight. Would he hit him? Jinx him? Harry had no idea. What would be more frightening? Draco saying yes, or Draco saying no?

"You'll have to find some opportunity to broach the topic."

Harry nodded and then suddenly seemed to remember menus from his restaurant. Enough about him. The decisions that he needed to make were dependent on a certain blond that was not there. Hermione was right, he'd need to find an opportunity, and soon. For now though, he pulled a menu over. "We have an anniversary to plan, right?"


	5. Chapter 5: Dressing to Impress

**Dressing to Impress**

**This chapter contains language (bad language, obviously)...**

Harry was finishing up at _Seven Thirty One_ a few nights later when the unexpected opportunity fell in his lap. One of his patrons was hosting a large party at the newest club in town and gave Harry two tickets to the event. After all, Draco still owed him a dinner. Maybe this was just the opportunity he needed. He approached Draco with the idea the next morning at coffee by showing him the fancy invite. Harry was doing his best to act the same on the outside, even when his stomach did a strange flutter when he was in the same room as Draco.

Draco looked over the invitation, impressed, but doing his best not to show it. "Congratulations, Harry. Moving in important circles, now, hmm?"

Time for the moment of truth. "I thought, maybe you'd go with me." Draco lifted a single brow and sat back, food forgotten. "You know, have dinner, have a few drinks. Go have fun." Draco hadn't said no, but he was watching Harry curiously. Harry tried a different tactic. "You said you needed an excuse to wear your new outfit," he baited, remembering a conversation they had over coffee a few days before.

"I said _wanted_ an excuse," But Draco looked thoughtful for a moment. Harry seized the moment, suddenly hopeful.

"So you'll go?"

"Oh, I suppose." Draco glanced at his watch missing the panic and excitement on Harry's face. "I need to get back."

Harry followed Draco to the door, a large grin plastered on his face. "I'll send you the invite later."

Draco nodded his head, "Sounds good."

"Brilliant." Harry was smiling full on now. Draco gave Harry a strange look before waving at him and disappearing into the lift. However, Harry was too preoccupied to give that look any deeper thought. He had done it. He had asked Draco out on a date, even if the other man didn't realize it was _that _kind of date. Harry was hopeful to get Draco alone sometime that night so they could talk. He wasn't sure how Draco would react, but just having a plan made Harry feel better. Now, all he had to do was keep sane for a few more nights.

The night of the party coincided with Harry's monthly dinner with Ron and Hermione. At first, he thought about cancelling, but the party didn't start until late and neither Ron nor Hermione stayed up very late, so Harry decided to keep the tradition. Ron and Hermione lived in a nice wizarding community of Appleby in North Lincolnshire. Hermione worked for the Ministry of Magic, still trying to achieve equal rights for many non-human magical creatures, including her favorite project, the house-elf. Ron left the Aurors not long after Harry and had since been making a decent living working at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes with his brother George. It afforded them a nice house, with a garden in the back that Hermione took great pleasure in. They would never be rich, but neither would they be poor. Harry couldn't have been happier for them. And yet, he also felt very separated from them. He had tried to explain his reasoning for leaving the Ministry and living in the muggle London, but he knew they didn't understand. Maybe they could never understand. They thought he was just going through a phase.

Harry was on edge, needing to constantly have some part of his body moving to expel the nervous energy. He tried occasionally to come up with a script in his mind to help him get the nerve up to talk to Draco, but all his ideas fell flat. Each attempt sounded wrong and stupid. _So, I had this dream..._Stupid. If Draco didn't hex him, Harry would out of desperation. A sardonic smile crossed his face: he was doomed.

"Harry, what's so funny?" Hermione was finishing hand washing their dinner glasses. Born from a muggle family, there were certain tasks that Hermione enjoyed doing sans magic. Her brown, curly hair was piled on top of her head, secured with a clip and she was wearing a simple blue cotton dress. She looked very domesticated and very happy to Harry. "Harry?"

"Wha? Oh, sorry Hermione. I must have drifted off somewhere."

She gave him a knowing look. "Are you excited about your date? You've hardly talked about anything else tonight, but this party and your new friend. When do we get to meet her?"

Ron came in from the back door; he had taken out the trash. He saw Harry's red face. "Yeah, Harry." He chimed in, hearing the tale end of the conversation as he came in. "When do we meet this person?"

Harry choked and tried to stammer out an explanation. "Uh, nothing is for certain guys, remember? Hell, this could all blow up in my face."

Ron began drying the cleaned glasses, a grin from ear to ear. "Sure, Harry, sure." He put a dramatic hand to his forehead, "What's the saying, Hermione? 'He protests too much'?"

Hermione looked baffled, "Close enough Ron. Come on Harry, have some confidence." She went quiet, that pensive look on her face. "You seem happier than you have in a long time." The panic on Harry's face had been plain enough for Hermione to see, but she misjudged the reason. Still, she opted to change the subject slightly. Harry would tell them when he was ready. "Well, nevermind." She rinsed the last plate before drying her hands on her apron. "So, what are you wearing tonight?"

Harry was relieved at the change of subject. He looked down at his shirt and jeans. "This, I guess."

"Oh, Harry you couldn't!" When Harry shrugged, Hermione laughed. "You're impossible! Wait here, I'll find something." She rushed out of the kitchen, excitement in her eyes when she came back with a thick magazine. Harry and Ron waited patiently as she flipped through the pages, concentration on her brows. They both knew better than to interrupt Hermione when she was reading, it didn't matter what it was. She turned a page, then turned back. "A ha! Perfect." She turned the magazine around and Harry paled noticeably. "You don't like it? It's a Drake Black Design." It was a charcoal grey suit, sleek pants and a slimming jacket. "His stuff is really popular right now."

A nervous laugh escaped Harry's lips and he tried to cover it with a cough. "I couldn't wear that Hermione. I'd look ridiculous. C'mon on, Ron, tell her so."

His red haired friend put the last dish away to look at the picture. "It's actually a nice suit."

"Ron…" Harry groaned.

"Sorry mate." He flopped on their couch. "Might as well give in. I've seen that look one too many times on her face."

In the end, Harry submitted to Hermione's wand waving. He was too embarrassed to even look in the mirror at his new glamoured suit and styled hair as he left for the club.

Draco finished sewing the last few hems to his newest leather jacket, holding the needle in his mouth so he could cut and tie the strings. He turned it right side out, enjoying the feel of the supple leather before gingerly putting his arms in, smoothing the leather down. He looked in his mirror in one of the back workrooms at the shop, giving his appearance one last scrutiny. The leather jacket was dyed deep green and complimented the dark grey wool pants held up by silk braces under a white collared shirt and matching grey waistcoat. His shoes were recently shined, and Draco was extremely pleased with the overall effect. It was time to go. He was of two minds about attending this party with Harry. For one, his sexuality was widely known, but for some reason Draco never explicitly told Harry for his preference in men. Two, single, rather handsome men attending a party together might stir gossip. Draco paused, looking at his reflection, curious at his own thoughts. He thought about Harry for a minute, dark hair, green eyes, muscular build. Purely on aesthetics, Harry Potter _was _actually handsome. He shook that train of thought away. The main reason for going, Draco suddenly tried to convince himself, was to wear the new outfit. He loved showing off his designs.

He left the smaller workshop and through the main floor, where several designers were working late. At his crisp footsteps several stopped working and began catcalling in shouts and whistles. "Shut up, you lot."

"Damn, Drake, you're enough to turn a straight man gay." There were several good natured laughs. Another worker took up the thread, "Might be happening to me right now."

Draco rolled his eyes, inwardly preening at the attention.

Brian came from a backroom, arms full of lace and whistled appreciatively. "That is a stunning new outfit Drake. I'm sure Harry will be properly impressed." The other workers started whistling again, but it sounded far away for Draco, as if in a tunnel.

"What?"

Brian set the the pile of lace down, giving his boss an odd glance. "It's all you've been talking about lately, haven't you noticed? Harry this, Harry that. I'm glad you decided to go on a proper date with him."

Time slowed down, apprehension trickled down Draco's spine. "Don't be stupid," Draco spat out, harsher than he meant.

"Whoa, calm down." Brian put his hands up and edged Draco down the hall, away from peering eyes. "Drake, what's the matter with you? You've never been this dense before. You obviously like this guy, you spend nearly all your free time with him."

"I don't _like _Harry." It was the only thing Draco could come up with, the only thing he could say that didn't threaten his current balance, and he clung to that sentence as if his whole world depended on it.

The two men walked down the hall, but before Draco could leave his shop, Brian put a hand up, blocking the doorway. "Look Drake, I don't want to overstep here, but we've always been close friends. Maybe you don't see it, but everyone else does."

Draco opened and closed his mouth a few times before asking in whisper, "See what, exactly?"

"You _do _like this guy. Why is it a problem?" Concern tinged every word, and Brian slowly let his arm fall from the doorway.

"I...I can't have feelings for him." Draco shook his head. "Besides, Harry's straight."

Brian took a deep breath stared Draco in the eyes. "Are you sure?"

The tiniest sliver of doubt creeped up Draco's neck, but he shook it away. "Of course. It's _Harry."_

"But you still like him," Brian countered.

"No. I don't." Brian bit his bottom lip, giving Draco a pitying glance. It set Draco on edge. "Oh, fuck you, Brian. I'm going and I'm going to have a good time with my _friend._"

"Sure, Drake."

Draco glared and left the warehouse. He didn't like the way Brian looked at him and he disliked a stupid voice in the back of his mind that was beginning to agree with him.


	6. Chapter 6: Revelations

**Harry and Draco awkwardly continue to navigate their feelings. Also, I don't speak French, so if it's not right, please just go with it.**

**Revelations**

The line to the club was already out the door when Draco arrived. He and Harry had agreed to meet in the parking lot first, so Draco glanced around, scanning for the familiar face. After one cursory glance without a sign of Harry, Draco slowed down, actually looking carefully at the faces in the crowd. When he first spotted Harry his brain automatically moved on before he dragged his eyes back. There was no way _Harry _could be the same man walking toward him. This man was tall and sleek, but had Harry's unique green eyes. This man's hair was styled, but similar to a messy haired brunette. This man was smiling that recognizable half grin that Draco knew all too well. Draco's mind was spinning and stopping at the same time. This _was _Harry, and oh Merlin was he _beautiful_. _Shit._

Harry stopped a few inches from Draco, slightly yelling over the noise of crowd and the music from the club. "Hey!"

Draco swallowed. "Hey."

"The outfit is nice," Harry said in a strange way, gesturing toward Draco.

Or maybe it was Draco's hearing that was strange, blood was rushing to his ears. Searching for something to say, Draco inspected Harry's clothes, recognizing the pattern on inspection. Harry looked damn near perfect in Draco's clothes. _And out of them? _Draco forced his thoughts away. "You too," he replied breathlessly. _Was that his voice?_ Hell, he needed to get it together before he made a fool out of himself. Did Harry just blush? What would that feel like? Draco's hand was outreached toward Harry, almost of its own accord; Harry's eyes widened, and somewhere in a heartbeat Draco regained control of himself, but just barely. He changed his hand's direction and flipped Harry's collar out, taking a quick step back. "There," he said clearing his throat. "Better."

"Oh, thanks." They stood in a very awkward silence until Harry remembered the invite in his hand. "Should we go?"

Draco gestured toward the club. "After you."

After a brief wait, Harry and Draco arrived at the entrance of the club. A bouncer was checking invitations and an older woman, in her late fifties was welcoming people. This was Harry's patron, Mrs. Margaret Évreux. Though from a rich, titled family in France, she spent most of her time on the isle. Her dark hair was curled and she wore a small black dress under a voluptuous fur coat, eyes sparkling with enjoyment. "Oh, Harry, dear, you made it after all!" She kissed both of his checks. Harry started to introduce Draco, but he was already kissing an outstretched hand. "Well, well, Drake." She sounded amused, "It's been some time."

Harry looked confused as Draco gave the old woman a charming smile. "And you look younger than ever."

"Flatterer. Enjoy yourselves. Stay out of trouble!" Laughing, Mrs. Évreux waved them through.

The club was loud, the bass was beating, but Harry managed to shout his question. "You know her?"

"I'm...acquainted with her son." Was all Draco said before leading the way through the crowd. Bodies pressed upon them, waiters held trays of food and drink high above everyone's head, everyone was moving and shouting and Harry, with a little difficulty, followed Draco to a quieter spot off the main dance floor. Low black chairs lined the wall, separated by small tables and as luck would have it, Draco found a pair of seats unoccupied. Not long after they sat a waitress appeared asking for their drinks. Harry shouted for a beer, but he was unable to hear Draco's order as the next song started.

It was hard to have a normal conversation with the music so loud, causing Harry to doubt coming to the club after all. He glanced at Draco, sipping his drink. He looked so at ease, one leg crossed over the other. He met Harry's eyes briefly before taking another drink. Their vibe was off tonight, Harry realized. Whether it was his fault, or Draco's he was unsure, but ever since Harry first saw Draco, standing there looking utterly..._breathtaking_ there was tension. It was driving Harry a little crazy. Like he told Draco, he usually confronted his issues. At this moment though, he wasn't really sure what or whose issue he was supposed to be confronting. Was it how every time he looked, _really _looked at Draco he wanted to touch his face? That was shocking enough, wasn't it? How about that strange flutter in the stomach that Harry got whenever he gazed at the blond from the corner of his eyes. How was one supposed to deal with that!? Hell, Harry couldn't even describe his reaction to this attraction. What would be Draco's reaction? Mortification? How was Harry even going to broach this topic when Draco kept avoiding his eyes and kept conversation to one word responses. It was maddening.

Barely through half a beer a tall, slender woman made her way to their corner. She looked like a model, long hair, straight, hard to tell the color in the alternating lights of the dance floor. Her dress was deep cut, nearly to her navel in the front and slit up to the hip on the sides. Harry thought she was one of the prettiest women he'd ever seen, and she also looked nervous. Not nervous enough to stop walking, but obviously agitated. She was within a few feet of them when she finally smiled, "Oh this is brilliant!" She inched forward. "You're _him, _right?" For a second Harry thought she was talking to him. This was the same start to conversations he regularly had in the Wizarding World. Instead, it was to Draco she was addressing. "You're _the _Drake Black, aren't you?"

Draco stood elegantly, a motion that Harry was starting to envy and admire in equal parts, and kissed the woman's outstretched hand. "So it seems." He stepped back, signalling the woman to turn. To Harry's surprise she did, and with glee. Draco smiled, but to Harry, not the woman. "It's my Narcissa line." He turned his attention back to the woman. "It looks radiant on you, my dear."

That was the beginning of the end of their solitude. Women and men began to flock to Draco. Some he knew and introduced to Harry, others he politely complimented. People came and went, an endless stream. Harry accepted another beer from a waiter, laughing genuinely at something Draco said. It was a new experience not being the center of attention and Harry enjoyed the moment. Draco effortlessly made conversation with everyone who came up to him, a skill set that Harry lacked. Finding the right words was a challenge. He wasn't exactly excluded either. Though Draco seemed willing to talk to these people, he never seemed to go long without talking to Harry too.

Eventually, the crowd started to disperse. Those who wanted to capture "Drake Black's" attention must have been sated. In a lull, both Harry and Draco lounged back in their chairs. A waiter came by, Draco ordered another tall drink and Harry a beer; which number beer Harry was unsure.

Harry started to ask Draco a question when a woman, obviously drunk, bumped into their table. Harry's empty bottles fell over and Draco grabbed his glass with quick reflexes.

"Sorry!" She yelled over the music. "Sorry! Come on, come and dance with me. I'll make it up to you." She was grabbing Harry's hands, pulling him, nearly dragging him on the dancefloor. Dancing was not really his thing, but he realized most people were just sort of...jumping in time with the music. He could do that. At least it was doing something and would occupy his mind.

Draco was watching Harry with full amusement. He really was a spectacle, jumping and bouncing, cluelessly, but energetically to the music. There was a strange desire to go and dance _with _him instead of that girl, but Draco quashed that thought. He was supposed to be spending the night convincing himself that any feelings he had for Harry were just skin deep, lust maybe. A natural reaction to spending so much time with a handsome man. _Gorgeous. _His mind corrected. Alright. Gorgeous. And the way Harry's face turned such a brilliant shade of red. He wondered if other parts..._Nope_. Draco took a deep breath. _Going to stop that thought right now. _However, he didn't stop his eyes from feasting. He was so absorbed that he failed to notice a figure emerge from the shadows beside him. A hand rested on Draco's shoulder causing him to flinch.

"_Bonjour mon chéri." _

It had been at least a year since Draco had seen Ezra Évreux. Not much had changed. The man was still beautiful and androgynous. His black hair was spiked to look like bird feathers, a few strands followed the narrow contours of his face to a small pointed chin. Ezra wore an opened button shirt, exposing a flawless chest. He grinned to Draco, a feline movement that set Draco on edge. "Hello, Ezra." He moved his head so he could see Harry again.

"What? No eyes for me tonight?" Ezra followed Draco's eyes to the dancefloor. "Hmm, the one in the grey, I imagine. I wonder," Ezra lightly pushed Draco's leg off his knee, straddling Draco's lap. He leaned in, lips barely caressing Draco's ear. "_Il est chaud_."

Draco noticed Harry trip on the dance floor, bringing a smile to his lips. He was mostly ignoring Ezra's advances. The man was a born flirt, but easily grew bored if his affections weren't quickly returned. "Ezra, you're wasting your time," Draco laughed as the other man pouted. He gestured around the room. "I'm sure there are other, more willing, recipients of your attention."

Ezra slowly dragged himself off Drake, sure to caress his side with his hands, his legs with his. When Drake returned to his previous position without even a slight flutter of interest, Ezra got annoyed. He grinned, a devious, Cheshire grin. "As you say." He turned toward the dancefloor. "Maybe, a young brunet tonight, hm? A change from blonde?" Ezra was only lightly joking, trying to get a rise out the handsome blonde, he was unprepared when his wrist was grabbed in a vice like grip.

"_Not_ that one."

"_Ne soit pas jaloux!_" He tried to pull away, shocked when Drake pulled harder, spinning him around.

"_Not_ him."

There were not many times in Ezra's life where he was unsure of himself. Born into privilege, spoiled excessively, he was not normally confronted by dangerous situations. The burning emotions, barely contained in Drake's eyes, was enough to sober Ezra, indeed frighten him. He looked like a snake, coiled and ready to attack, strike out at him. Ezra forced a smile and swallowed, nervous. "But, as you say, there are others." He gently eased away from Drake, giving him a cautious glance before returning to the party, gaily greeting people and kissing cheeks as if nothing had happened.

Draco tried to calm his frazzled nerves. He had no reason to over react the way he did. Just, the idea of Ezra making advances towards Harry, it knotted his stomach. He forced himself to take a few breaths, trying to banish unwelcome images from his mind. Ezra, charming as usual, making his way to Harry; Harry, so naive sometimes, falling into his trap. Ezra was downright seductive. Draco could imagine them stalking off to a dark corner, whispered words and secret caresses, passionate kisses. "_Ne soit pas jaloux!_" Ezra's words echoed in his brain. But Draco couldn't help it. If _anyone _should be touching and (dare) kissing Harry Potter it should be him! Did, did Draco just..._what is happening? _Draco set his glass down on the table, hard, sitting back in shock. _Shit._ Harry was on his way back now, looking wide eyed and out of breath. He avoided Draco's eyes and instead grabbed his discarded drink, swallowing it in a sloppy gulp.

"Harry, wait!" Too late, Harry was coughing and sputtering, small tears forming in his eyes. "You're going to regret that."

Gasping, Harry managed to croak out. "What was that!?"

"Absinthe."

"Absinthe!?"

"Absinthe!?" Harry's mind went spinning and he sat back in his chair. He'd heard of the drink also known as the Green Fairy; it was supposed to induce hallucinations. His heart was beating against his chest. "Merlin, when do I start seeing things?"

Draco laughed. "Calm down, idiot. It's just alcohol. Strong alcohol."

"Why in the world were you drinking it then!?" Harry wasn't sure why he was shouting; maybe it was just nervous energy.

"I wasn't planning on drinking it in one go." Draco surreptitiously looked around the room. When he was sure no one was looking he quickly waved his wand (hidden again in inside jacket pocket) and produced a glass of ice water, handing it to Harry. "What on earth made you do that, anyway?"

Harry accepted the water, but didn't answer immediately. Thankfully, a rather obnoxious song started playing, effectively ending their conversation, giving Harry a moment to think about his reaction.

It had started while Harry was dancing. He kept maneuvering to keep Draco in his field of sight. At first, he was unaware he was even doing it, but soon he caught himself darting glances at Draco more than he was paying attention to the woman. A small thought, forbidden and half formed, crept through his mind. What if _Draco_ were dancing with _him _instead? Curious butterflies fluttered in Harry's stomach. _Stupid, stupid. Draco was probably looking for a pretty girl to talk to right now. _Slightly aggravated at his own thoughts, Harry tried to get more into the music, dancing more exuberantly than he normally would. The next time he looked up he tripped in shock. A man was sitting on Draco's lap, in no way hiding the sexual undertones of the position. He was whispering in Draco's ear. Draco was _laughing! _Harry turned away, roughly bumping into another dancer. "Sorry!"

Harry looked down at his feet, surprised to see the dance floor spinning. Or was he spinning? He wasn't quite sure. Peculiar feelings were spreading through Harry's body, and yet Harry kept dancing, like he was detached, not connected to his body. _Draco had another man on him. Draco had another man on him. Draco. With another man. _With a shock Harry was able to pinpoint the strongest emotion coursing through his veins: jealousy. He was _jealous. _A second later another realization hurtled itself through Harry's brain. Draco had seemed familiar with the man, his words from earlier coming back to slap Harry in the face "_I'm...acquainted with her son…" _Acquainted as in _acquainted!? _The floor lurched beneath Harry's feet and suddenly he was rushing to sit down. He saw Draco's concerned face, but panicked, picking up his drink and downing it. The liquid had burned, forcing him to choke, and that brought him back full circle, slowly drinking iced water.

Seeing Draco in this new light wasn't exactly helpful for Harry. He had one question answered; it was obvious now that Draco _did _in fact appreciate the attention of other men, but would that extend to Harry's attention. One part of Harry wanted to just blurt his feelings. Unfortunately, that would mean he would have to understand them enough to put into words, and he just didn't have that clarity. An ache formed in his chest. He knew what he wanted in an abstraction: He wanted the real Draco to look at him like the dream Draco. Bridging the gap between desire and reality might as well be like leaping over the Atlantic Ocean. For the moment, Harry's courage had abandoned him. With a deep sigh he decided to get some air.

Fate always had a strange way of asserting itself at the last moment. Harry was unsure when it all went wrong. The toe of his shoe collided with Draco's, sending him careening forward. Arms were outstretched to brace his fall, eyes shut knowing the impact was coming. And yet, it never did. Instead, two strong hands grabbed him on either side of his waist and held him, stopping him from toppling over. Draco was leaning forward, stabilizing Harry. One of Harry's hands rested on Draco's chair, the other holding to Draco's shoulder. It was beyond Harry how it got there.

To his surprise, Draco's hands lingered, steady. "You alright, Harry?"

_Was he?_ Harry hardly knew anymore. A million different thoughts bombarded Harry, all happening in a microsecond. He was so close to Draco, so close. If he just leaned forward his and Draco's mouths could touch. Would Harry dare?

"Harry?"

That undid Harry's restraint. Hearing Draco say his name, questioning and concerning, was too similar to how Draco said his name in his dreams. Fear and consequences be damned, Harry closed the distance between them and kissed Draco's lips. Time seemed to stall. When Draco didn't respond Harry was mortified. What if he had been wrong this whole time. His heart was in his throat, he couldn't breathe. He was terrified to meet Draco's eyes. He was frozen in purgatory, unable to move forward, unable to retreat.

Had Harry been thinking rationally, he might have noticed that Draco had yet to release him. Had Harry been thinking rationally, he might have caught the shocked expression on Draco's unsuspecting face. But Harry wasn't thinking rationally. His thoughts were already a thousand steps in the future trying to figure out how to fix the mess he found himself in. As such, he was taken by surprise when soft lips touched his again. Emotions welled within Harry, threatening to burst like an overflowing dam. Draco's lips were gentle, exploring, questioning. Surprising himself, it was Harry that deepened the kiss; letting his tongue caress the inside of Draco's mouth. Draco in return pulled Harry closer.

The club, the music, the people all faded away. All that mattered to Harry was Draco. Once he started kissing Draco he couldn't stop. Draco filled him with a burning intensity. When Draco broke away, the absence was nearly a physical blow. Draco's eyes were reassuring, melted silver pools that held his gaze. "Harry, do you want to go?" His voice was low and husky, sending chills down Harry's entire body. Unsure if his own voice would betray him, Harry carefully stood and extended a hand to Draco. It was so much more than just a hand. It was an invitation. Harry was on pins, holding his breath for what seemed an eternity. A white hand, with long fingers, enclosed his and Harry helped pull Draco up from the chair. Harry spared enough attention to spy the club. No one was paying them any attention, even after their display of affection. That was to Harry's benefit. He stepped closer to Draco, dared to wrap an arm around him, and apparated to his flat.

The rough side by side apparition was Draco's first clue that not all was well with Harry. The second clue was when Harry stumbled again; Draco caught him like before. Harry leaned into him and Draco's concern faded away as Harry began kissing him again. It was intoxicating and in the privacy of Harry's dim lit apartment Draco returned Harry's kisses with abandon. Harry's hands, so much warmer than his own, trailed down his back. Draco responded by cupping Harry's face with his hands. How had Draco not known he wanted this? Everyone else saw it, just not him. Hell, it seemed even Harry had figured it out before him. _Harry..._

Harry groaned into Draco's mouth, sending thrills of pleasure down Draco's body. He pulled slightly away, wanting to see the bright emerald of Harry's eyes. Instead, what he saw was a third warning. Draco put an arms length between him and Harry, surprised by how hard that simple motion was for him. Harry staggered slightly, but Draco was ready for it this time. "Harry, how drunk are you?" He had to ask the question, even though he dreaded the answer, already knew the answer. He could taste the absinthe on his own lips now he was paying attention, could see Harry's unfocused eyes, and not just from passion, noted that Harry held to his arms for balance not just desire.

"What? I'm not."

Draco withdrew his support and Harry stumbled forward, reaching out for Draco's stabilizing arms, which were there immediately, keeping Harry from hitting the floor. "Shit." Gently Draco stood Harry, relishing the feel of Harry's arms around his shoulders. And Harry was placing kisses at the base of his throat, slowly edging up. His strong reaction to Harry surprised Draco, all he wanted to was lose himself in the other man's embrace. Just let go and surrender. All he had to do was lean down...Draco lost control, fully kissing Harry's mouth, fingers brushing through his dark hair. Harry responded, pushing and pulling Draco's tongue until all was one smooth, never ending motion. Rationality reared its ugly head again and Draco pulled away. "No, Harry stop a moment." Draco took a few deep breaths. "Harry, I can't. Not like this."

"Draco?" Harry tried to move closer, but Draco held him at bay.

"Merlin, Harry, just listen, will you? I'm not the most," he struggled for the word, "virtuous person in the world, and you're sorely trying my self control, but this wouldn't be right." The hurt in Harry's eyes was like a knife in Draco's chest. The blade twisted when Harry stepped back, using the sofa to keep him steady.

"This wouldn't be right?" Harry echoed. "You don't…" he let the sentence drop away.

Draco closed the distance between them in two quick steps. "That's _not _what I said." Harry closed his eyes and swayed backward, seeming to lose a battle with consciousness. Draco grabbed him once again, struggling under the sudden dead weight. "Jesus, Harry, you can't hold your drink, can you?" The silence was Draco's answer. _Shit. I can't just leave him like this. _He thought best how to get Harry to bed before just scooping him up, letting Harry's limbs dangle on either side of his elbows. In the darkness it was harder to find Harry's room, having only seen the outside once. Draco managed, making his way to the bed, setting Harry down carefully. The motion roused him slightly.

"Where?"

"Shhh, it's your bed." Draco carefully worked Harry's arms out of his jacket, letting Harry rest his head against Draco's chest. One hand held Harry on the back, the other pulled down the covers. Harry's eyes fluttered open as Draco guided him to lay down. He struggled to sit up, falling back on the pillows as Draco gave him a gentle shove. "Go to sleep, idiot," Draco said affectionately as he unlaced Harry's shoes, letting them fall with a muted thud on the carpet.

"Mm not." Harry protested, even as he curled on his side, eyes following Draco.

"Yes you are," Draco knelt by the bed, elbows resting on the mattress, chin in hands, "but I forgive you." A smirk emerged on Draco's face, unbidden. "I can't believe you did that, Harry." He was unsure if he meant drinking the absinthe or getting the courage to kiss him. It didn't really matter. Harry smiled softly in return. Draco wasn't usually the most patient person, and the stars knew he had left several lovers in worse shape, but he found he wasn't in any hurry to leave. At least he could still see Harry's face, dimly, and in shadow from some street light barely making it through the blinds, but it was enough. Harry's breathing had evened out, his chest rising and falling in slow steady motions of sleep. The desire, the need, to touch Harry was overwhelming; Draco had never found anyone as utterly breathtaking as Harry, and here he was, sleeping, trusting him. With his left hand, Draco gently brushed Harry's bangs from his forehead, exposing the faint lightning shaped scar.

That scar panicked him; that scar represented everything Harry was, and everything Draco wasn't. Doubts flooded Draco's mind. What in the world was he doing here with the Boy Who Lived!? A bit of air hitched in his throat; he guessed it was the Man Who Lived now. And he had been kissing him! With his free hand he hid his face. There was probably time to undo this. One night of kissing hardly mattered, right?

Harry picked the most inopportune time to stir awake, leaning into Draco's hand still resting on his cheek. "Still here?"

Draco swallowed and uncovered his face. "Still here."

"I'm glad." Harry turned into Draco's hand, placing a kiss on his palm. "And, you may be right," He was focusing on each word, enunciating every syllable, "I may have had too much to drink tonight."

"Maybe?" Draco quipped back with a smile.

"Shut up." Harry brought his hand to cover Draco's, folding his fingers over Draco's own. "Draco…"

"Hmm?" Despite his misgivings, Draco was still caressing Harry's cheek. All the worries he had seemed to vanish in an emerald gaze.

"Nothing will change tomorrow."

"No?" Draco traced Harry's lips with his thumb, watching as Harry took a shuddering breath.

"No." Harry said finally, with a sense of finality that both parts terrified and electrified Draco.

Unable to trust his own voice, Draco nodded. Quietly clearing his throat, he rocked back to his heels and then his feet, meeting Harry's questioning gaze with what he hoped was reassurance. "Be right back. I'm getting you some water." It was only half the reason. Draco knew from experience hydration could help with a hangover, but he also needed space away from Harry. Those damned green eyes and that damned face made it hard for Draco to think. He made his way into the kitchen, one of two rooms he actually felt comfortable in, and grabbed a glass from a counter, filling it with cool tap, letting his mind wander. How had his life become so complicated...again? Living among the muggles was supposed to offer him some peace and freedom; space from memories he hated to relive. And then there was Harry. Dammit, but it always seemed to be Harry. Part of Draco wanted everything Harry had to offer, part of him wanted to run far away. He teetered back and forth instantaneously.

Glass full of water, Draco rummaged through Harry's cupboards until he found some powdered feverfew in the medicine cabinet. Maybe that would help Harry in the morning. Back in the bedroom, Harry's eyes were closed, obviously asleep. He was still on his side, hand outreached where Draco had been. Trying to be as quiet as possible, Draco set the water and medicine on the night table. He didn't dare say anything, it was probably for the best for Harry to sleep, but it didn't stop him from looking. Harry looked so blissfully peaceful and Draco had a unfamiliar pang in his chest. Harry trusted him enough to lower his guard. _Him, Draco Malfoy_. More unnerving, Draco suddenly wanted to be that person that Harry trusted. So much for walking away. A very loud inner part of his mind was cheering, but Draco still shook his head. It was stupid to think that he and Harry had any real future together, his past made that very clear, but all the reasons why Draco should not get invested were overpowered by the mere presence of the sleeping man in front of him. With some regret, Draco went back to the kitchen and grabbed a pen and paper lying about.

"_Harry_," he began to write, then stalled, unable to put into words the rambling thoughts whirling in his head. Biting his lip, Draco continued with a wry smile, "_If you feel well enough after your recent imbibing, stop by my workshop tomorrow. I suppose we should talk." _He scrawled the address on the bottom of the paper, folded it in half and wrote "_To Harry". _And that was that. Draco locked the flat and paused on the outside of Harry's door. Draco could leave at any moment, and yet, he let his hand linger a moment longer on the wood before apparating away.

He didn't go straight home. Rather, he appeared a few blocks away from his flat building, needing the time to think. There were many unasked questions. One thing was sure, nothing was certain. Draco had thought his life was settling down, but now...Draco never knew he had been parched, never knew he had been living in a desert, each crag and crack bare and broken. Lovers came like monsoons, providing him brief moments of respite, but like the rains, lovers left, leaving him barren. Harry was an oasis, filling his life with springs of green. Question was, would the spring survive the winter.


	7. Chapter 7: To Have and Have Not

**Harry and Draco sort through their convoluted feelings for each other and Harry makes a few revelations to a friend and we learn more about Draco's past. Some slash. Also, as always, I don't own any original characters. **

**To Have and Have Not**

A single brilliant beam of light snuck through the crack between the blind and the window and pierced Harry's eyelid. Blinking, Harry struggled through the fog that was his consciousness. There had to be times when his head hurt more than it did now, but Harry was hard pressed to pinpoint one. For a moment he even reached for his glasses on the nightstand before remembering that he didn't actually _wear _glasses anymore. Squinting regardless, Harry sat up and grabbed the water nearby. Halfway through the glass he saw the feverfew and added the root to his water, swallowing through the grit. He set the empty glass down, and with that motion came all the memories from the night before. The kisses, the alcohol, the caresses...Draco..._Oh. Sweet. Merlin. _

The panic attacked swiftly, breath shallow, heart skipping, temples pounding, and nausea turned the stomach. Bending over, Harry tried to reign in emotions, purposefully slowing the intake and outtake of air until he had some semblance of control. The panic didn't come from his memories of kissing and touching Draco, no, those misty memories were tinged with elation: the panic came from making a complete fool of himself. Here he was trying to explore his feelings for Draco, and instead he ended up totally smashed. _Brilliant, Harry...just brilliant. _Needing more water, Harry sluggishly got out of bed. He was still wearing the clothes from last night, jeans and a t-shirt; the glamour had finally worn off. His shoes were on the floor, his jacket folded over a chair, and he had a vague memory of Draco helping him into bed. Harry frowned, unable to piece together more than few images at a time.

Either way, he made his way to the kitchen to refill his glass. He was gulping down the water when he noticed a folded piece of paper propped up like a small tent on the table. His name was written in an elegant cursive. Curious, Harry read the note, warmth spreading from his chest to every inch of his body. And then was immediately followed by dread. _They should talk? What did that mean? _The clock struck one and Harry threw down the note and hurried to the shower, hoping his drunken scene hadn't ruined his chance at the _one _thing he wanted most. _Draco's right...I am an idiot._

The address Draco gave Harry led him to a large brick building in an industrial part of town. The clouds were low and cold, and Harry was glad for the overcoat he was wearing. He stared at the buzzer for several minutes. He knew he was going to push the button. He had to. The alternative was to go on living, but without Draco and with every regret he would have weighing him down. He knew he was going to go in, because that alternative wasn't something he could live with. He might have botched last night, but one thing was still the same: Harry wanted Draco. He just needed to find out if Draco wanted him. A few more seconds, a few more deep breaths, and then Harry pushed the buzzer.

An answer wasn't immediate. Hands back in pockets, Harry shifted his weight from one foot to the other, from impatience, nerves, and cold. A light wind threatened rain. February came too quickly this year. Or rather, Harry was too busy with some rather large life-altering enlightenments to notice. He wished the door would open. His hand was halfway to the buzzer again when the door finally opened. A man, late twenties, early thirties, Harry guessed, stuck his head out the door. He was shorter than Harry, very skinny, with black hair and sharp brown eyes that assessed Harry with suspicion.

"May I help you?"

"Yeah, is Draco here?" The man gave Harry a confused look and Harry realized his mistake. "Drake. Is Drake Black here?"

The man's suspicious gaze ceased to soften. The opposite, he eyed Harry's outfit with visible disdain. "Drake isn't giving private consultations today, sorry." He pulled back, taking the door with him.

Harry stuck his foot in the gap, grabbing the edge. He was stronger than the shorter man, who looked surprised. Harry tried to give a polite smile, "I'm not here for a consultation. I'm Harry Potter."

The resistance to the door faded and a change of expression came on so suddenly that Harry thought maybe he'd imagined the hostility just a moment before. "_Harry!_ Come in, come in!" The man ushered Harry in with a large grin. "Drake didn't say you were coming!" He stretched out a hand and Harry automatically shook it. "I'm Brian. Sorry about that," he said genuinely. "If I let everyone in here we'd never get any work done. But nevermind, come on, this way. Drake's downstairs in his office."

Harry let himself be guided down a long hall that opened up into a warehouse space. There were many tables organized in a manner that Harry wouldn't even try to guess, each with different fabrics and colors. Large lights with shades hung from the ceiling so that the area was well lit, hardly any shadows. About fifteen tables had sewing machines on them, clothing mannequins covered in various stages of dress. Several workers stalled at their machines as Brian motioned for Harry to follow him.

"Everyone, this is Harry Potter." Brian's announcement was followed by echoes of 'Harry!' or 'Harry Potter!' It was only the experience of years getting the same exact reaction (though for completely different reasons) that Harry was able to stand there unfazed. In fact, he gave a polite half wave, before Brian pushed him from the back down the hall again and into an old looking lift. Brian was keeping up a conversation, but Harry wasn't really engaging. Instead, a knot was forming in his stomach. The nerves he had tried so hard to get rid of were threatening to come back as the lift stopped a floor below.

At the end of a narrow hall was a single black wood door with a cursive _D _as the only decoration. Brian knocked once.

"Go away, I'm busy." Harry tried to keep the smile off his face. Hearing Draco's voice soothed his nerves a little. He could even imagine the annoyed expression on the blonde's face. Brain opened the door anyway, but just an inch, keeping Harry out of view. Harry could hear the irritation in Draco's voice, "Out, Brian."

"Alright, alright, but I have something for you." There was a dramatic pause and then Brian opened the door fully. With a grin, Brian switched his gaze from Draco to Harry and then, wide eyed, made a hasty exit. "Well, cheerio and all that. We'll be downstairs!" He all put pushed Harry through the door and closed it behind him.

Out of nervousness, Harry took in the room. A large cabinet was against the far right wall, papers stacked on top. There was no window, but several bright overhead lights and two floor lamps filled the room with a warm light. On the left wall was a glass topped desk, more papers, drawings Harry thought, littered the service. A sewing machine was on a smaller table. Next to it was a mannequin with swatches of cloth pinned together in the semblance of a suit. And then there was Draco. He was standing in the middle of the room, measuring tape around his neck, several pins in his mouth, which he was just now removing. Belatedly, Harry realized he was staring, but it was hard not to. Draco was wearing black slacks and just a black undershirt, pale arms bare. He'd never seen Draco like this and it brought up vivid images from the dream when those very same arms were wrapped around him. Harry was quite speechless. Thankfully, Draco's mood seemed to improve once he saw Harry standing in his office.

"So, you made it out of bed before nightfall. I'm impressed. How's the head?"

Harry grimaced slightly, "Like it took a bludger." Draco laughed and Harry's heart might have skipped a beat. He forced himself to relax. "Thanks for the feverfew, by the way. Helpful, that."

"I'm glad." There was an odd silence. Both men refused to maintain eye contact for long and the tension between them seemed to vibrate like a string pulled taught. It was Draco who spoke first. "Give me a couple minutes, Harry? I want to finish this." He pointed to the mannequin and Harry nodded his head.

"Yeah, of course." Unable to watch Draco without staring, Harry made his way toward the desk. Draco waited a moment more before moving back to work, giving time for Harry to investigate the drawings he spotted earlier. The drawings were exquisite and very stylized; the men and women were all long limbed and slender. The faces, hands and bodies purposefully left vague. It was the clothing that gained all the detail and attention. Fifteen, maybe twenty, different designs were laid out, shaded in vibrant watercolors. There was a man's suit of green, several different evening gowns each detailed down to individual applique. Harry was so lost in thought he failed to notice Draco standing behind him. "Did you do these?" He asked without looking up. Draco hummed an affirmative; it was only then that Harry realized he was in such close proximity. Oddly, it didn't unnerve him like he thought it would. "They're wonderful." Unplanned, his voice came out near a whisper.

One arm came from behind and Draco leaned forward, barely inches away from Harry, and moved a couple drawings out of the way until he found one that he slid toward Harry. "This is my favorite." Draco's voice was barely above a whisper too.

Harry tried to ignore the chill it gave him and instead focused on the drawing. Like the others, the face and hands were vague, but some features were visible: messy brown hair, wide green eyes, a lightning shaped scar above an eye. Harry's breath caught: It was _him_! Draco had drawn him! Even down to the same overcoat he was wearing. Slowly, Harry spun around, leaning against his hands on the desk. Draco was close to him, so close he could see his chest rising and falling. "Your favorite?" Harry dared to ask, finally meeting Draco's eyes. The intensity there took his breath away. The cool grey normally seen was gone, replaced by a bright silver that drew Harry in, mesmerizing and inviting. There was also a vulnerability there that Harry never saw. This was the most open Draco had even been with him, and Harry found it suddenly impossible not to reach out and touch Draco. With a steady hand, Harry brushed his fingers through strands of silky blond hair. Draco copied the movement, soft fingers trailing down Harry's cheek, resting on his neck, thumb tracing Harry's jawline.

Draco leaned down, lips hovering over Harry's, meeting Harry's eyes, pausing before he whispered, "Harry."

Every fear and worry vanished from Harry's mind. There was just him and Draco, even the room disappeared, fading away as Harry closed the small distance between them and captured Draco's mouth. A flood of emotions seemed to break from Draco and Harry was consumed by fiery kisses; one strong hand held him by the neck, the other wrapped around his waist. Eagerly, Harry's own hands followed each curve of Draco's arms, from elbows up to shapely biceps then muscular shoulders and then back down. Not enough, Harry slid his hands under Draco's shirt, slightly surprised by his brazen, but enough to stop. Time didn't matter, breathing didn't matter. Harry was unsure he would be able to catch his breath even if he tried. As it was, his entire existence was focused on a certain blond haired man that was currently kissing him with a passion that Harry had never, ever experienced. His body started reacting in a way that once might have alarmed Harry, but was now oddly welcomed. Heat spread from head to toes, arousal made it hard to concentrate, and _Merlin_, he could _feel _Draco against him. Only then did reality come back into focus. Harry wasn't afraid of these feelings, but he was remembering where he was. Draco seemed to regain control of himself as well, pulling slightly away from Harry, but still pressing soft kisses on Harry's receptive mouth.

Taking a deep breath, Draco tugged Harry into sitting up. He hadn't realized he had been lying down on the table. Draco placed his hands on both sides of Harry's face, kissing him again before resting his head against Harry's. It was such an intimate motion; Harry hugged Draco closer to him in response, only then noticing Draco's shirt was off. His own jacket was also unbuttoned. When had that happened? After a moment of silence, Draco took another deep breath, sighing. "Harry, are you sure about this? It's... it's probably a bad idea."

At first Harry was alarmed, and yet Draco did not move away, did not stop holding him, did not make any motion to separate. Harry stroked the back of Draco's neck, forcing himself not run his hands over anymore of Draco's body, even though he was very, _very_ tempted. It was this reaction that helped Harry with his response. "I've made plenty of bad decisions, Draco...I don't think this is one of them."

Draco met Harry's eyes, full of worry and hope. "Why not? You know this will make your life difficult, right?"

Harry frowned, "What about your life?"

"My life is already difficult."

Harry thought about what Draco was saying, still refusing to move away from the other man, relieved that Draco wasn't making any attempts himself. He knew what Draco was doing. Knew that what he was saying was true. Once the Wizarding World got a hint of their...relationship...Harry would be faced with all kinds of uncomfortable questions, whether or not he had any intention of answering them. And then there was Ron and Hermione. He supposed he would have to answer _their _questions, if no one else. He wasn't exactly looking forward to that. But all that paled in comparison to these emotions that Draco so easily elicited. Everything felt so _right_, like a missing piece of his life's puzzle was finally put into place. He wasn't willing to risk that, even if it meant certain hardships in the future. If Draco was there, it was worth it. As for Draco, if he didn't want this, then where did that leave Harry? "I want this," he softly kissed the side of Draco's mouth, "and this," he covered Draco's arms around him, "and this," he finally allowed himself to caress Draco's bare chest. It was smooth and cool, a soft porcelain. Draco had his eyes closed, in obvious pleasure, but they opened again as Harry continued. "Do you?"

The question hung in the air longer than Harry would have liked. He was taking a chance by being so transparent with his feelings. That approach hadn't always served him the best in the past. Just... something had switched over in Harry's brain. All the risk, all the doubt about being with another man, and that being Draco Malfoy of all people, had been pushed aside by an unflinching certainty that they were supposed to be together like this. There was no sink or swim, Harry was already under water. He just hoped he wasn't the only one drowning. Unable to put that into words, he sighed, dropping his arms slowly. Maybe he was asking for too much. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe this was too delicate for a Monday afternoon.

Then again, maybe not.

Draco took Harry's hands and wrapped them back around him, before leaning into him, head slightly tilted, and whispered, "Just you, Harry." A declarative answer.

Harry was very glad he had the desk _and _Draco's arms to keep him standing. He wasn't prone to fanciful flights of fainting, but his whole body seemed to melt with those three words. "Draco…" Before Harry could say another word, a beep on Draco's phone sounded off shrilly. Harry jumped and Draco glared at the offending object.

"Hey Drake," came a woman's voice from a speaker, "the airport transport is here. They have some questions for you. Sounds urgent."

Draco brushed his fingers through his hair, blowing a few longer strands out of his eyes. "How important can it be?"

It was rhetorical, but Harry still did his best to detangle his limbs from Draco. "You should get it. Sounds "urgent"." He even emphasized the word with quotes.

Draco smiled briefly, "You're an idiot." Not moving far from Harry, and instead reaching past him, Draco stretched until he hit a button. "What do they want? I'm busy."

There was a pause, "I'm _sure_ you are." The innuendo was not lost on Harry who grinned sheepishly as Draco rolled his eyes. "However," she continued, "they say they'll only talk to you."

Draco all but growled, a low rumbling sound that strangely excited Harry. "Damn." He reluctantly moved away from Harry, scooping up the discarded shirt from the floor and shrugging into it with an effortlessness that left Harry half envious and half impressed. Draco stabbed at a button and grabbed the phone, "Tell them I'll be up in a few moments." Draco waited as he heard the reply and then dropped the phone back to the receiver. He gave Harry an apologetic glance as he grabbed a vest and a jacket hanging from a couple hooks on the wall. "Sorry."

Harry shrugged. "Don't be. I understand." He leaned against the desk and watched as Draco buttoned his waistcoat, mesmerized by the deft movements of his fingers as they manipulated each button, imagining those same fingers over his body. _Bloody hell, he turns me on while _getting _dressed. _Internally he shook his thoughts back into focus. "I'd forgotten New York was coming up so soon. When do you leave?"

"Thursday."

Thursday? That was only a couple of days away. He felt sad and empty at the thought of not seeing Draco for an entire week. Since their first coffee fiasco nearly a month ago, he and Draco had seen each other several times each week. Now, add on top the new delightful discovery of kissing, Harry was looking into the future feeling rather bereft. Draco was at the door, an arm extended for Harry to follow, and Harry did, still deep in thought. If he only had a few more days until Draco was gone for a week, then he wanted to spend more time with him. They managed to get to the lift without touching one another, but by the time the old doors closed, Harry reached for Draco's wrist, lightly enclosing it with his hand. A plan had suddenly formed, now to get Draco to agree. "Come to dinner with me tonight at _Seven Thirty One_." Draco's eyebrows lifted, curious and interested. "It's a tasting night. Just the staff."

The lift reached the top floor, the doors opening to the brighter warehouse space. Both men walked out together, Draco's hand on the small of Harry's back. "A tasting night?" He inquired lightly.

"Yeah. It's an opportunity for the sous chefs to try new recipes. We pair them with wines, everyone eats, drinks."

At the warehouse, a man around fifty in jeans, boots, and a blue collared shirt approached Draco and extended a hand. "Mr. Black? Jacob Smith for Anglo Pacific. I was wondering if we could iron out a few details before the packing."

Draco returned the shake, "That will be fine. Excuse me for a just a moment, though."

"Of course." Mr Smith replied respectfully.

Draco resumed walking down the corridor, Harry a split step behind. "So? Do you want to come?"

Draco sighed and gave Harry a look from the side. "It's not about _wanting, _Harry. I mean, are you sure about this? You'll be seen in public...with me."

They reached the door to the outside and Harry shrugged. "I'm always seen in public with you."

"Harry, you know what I mean." Draco's voice had a tinge of anger and wariness. "I'm out to all my friends. What about you? They'll make assumptions. Hell, their behavior might change. Are you prepared for that?"

This was the most serious Harry had ever seen Draco. On one level he heard the warning, heard the concern, but it was only floating on the surface. None of that mattered to Harry, at least for the moment. Was he certain that it wouldn't matter more in the future...no, but Harry was tired of always looking toward the future. What he wanted was right here in front of him. He pretended to think and then shrugged. "So what?"

"_Harry!"_

"No, listen. I've spent my _entire _life living up to people's expectations of me. _And _met or exceeded them. But dammit, I'm tired of always putting _my _wants last. Draco, I don't know what's happening, but I don't want it to stop. Do you?"

The answering kiss was swift, passionate, and took Harry completely surprise. The sudden anger he had from being confronted with his choice melted away as Draco took his breath away. He pulled away just as quick, a soft warmth in his eyes, a smile on his lips. "What time?"

Harry blinked and uncurled his fingers from Draco's jacket. "Um, 8:00."

"Alright."

"Alright you'll go?"

"Yes, alright I'll go." Draco responded to Harry's wide smile with a roll of his eyes. He opened the door. "Now, get out. I have work to do."

Harry continued to smile as he stepped out of the building. The sun had managed to break through the cloud cover. The rays fell on Draco's hair, turning the blond locks to a shining platinum. The air was still chilled and Harry buttoned up his coat, suddenly remembering he had another appointment as well. "Is there a Ministry connection nearby?"

Draco paused, halfway in and out of the building. He looked like he wanted to ask a question, but instead just pointed. "I think there's one in the men's loo at the record shop around the corner. You'll know it when you see it."

"Thanks."

Harry took his time walking the short distance from Draco's work to the record shop. He needed the time to think. How could he explain Draco to Hermione if he couldn't adequately explain it to himself. Well, for one, neither he nor Draco were the same. The war, the prophecy, Voldemort, it skewed everyone's destiny, and maybe not just Harry's. Maybe Draco had been affected by Voldemort as much as Harry, but in different ways. A memory surfaced from several years ago.

_It was of a younger Draco, dark smudges under his eyes, standing by a fireplace lying to his father. 'I don't know.' But Harry knew he knew. Knew he recognized him under the spell Hermione had quickly cast on him. Knew he was all that stood between him and certain death at Voldemort's hands. And yet, Draco had turned around and refuted. 'I don't know.'_

Why hadn't Draco turned him in. Why had he risked everything for him? It was a question Harry had never wanted to ask and never wanted answered. The next memory was one Harry hadn't actually thought about in a long time.

_The Room of Requirement was on fire, the powerful Fiendfyre_ _spell had been unleashed. Fiery animals were consuming the entire room, flame spreading widely, rounding every nook and cranny. He, Hermione and Ron had the Horcrux, but couldn't find a way out. It was only dumb luck that Ron stumbled upon the brooms. Luck, or the Room trying to help. Flying just out of reach of the fire, Harry had spotted Draco on top of a tall bookshelf. Even now, he wasn't sure what made him reach down and grab him._

They had both saved each other's lives. In the midst of war, death, and destruction, even when they were supposed to be enemies, they had saved each other's lives. Why hadn't they been able to leave each other alone even back then. Draco was North on Harry's compass. Everything he had ever done brought him back to Draco. As a teenager he never would have come to that realization. Now, Draco had managed to become an integral part of his life. He just hoped the old and the new could find some way to coexist. This thought brought him full circle as he finally made it to the record shop.

Like most things in the Wizarding World, this entrance to the Ministry was hidden in plain sight. At one time anyone and everyone could apparate into the Ministry. As Fifth years, Harry and five others broke into the Ministry's Department of Mysteries only to be ambushed by a group of Death Eaters. The resulting battle and the death of Sirius Black had left deep wounds for Harry. Looking back at it, teenagers never should have been able to access the Ministry's most valuable artifacts. It was only the arrival of the Order of the Phoenix that kept the casualty count so low.

His first year as an Auror he spent changing the laws of apparition into the Ministry. Now, only the Minister of Magic and the heads of each department were able to apparate in and out of the underground facility; an accomplishment that was hard earned. Harry learned quickly that wizards and witches were not fond of change, even when necessary. They resisted the best laid plans to be more inclusive. They resisted change to the Wizengamot, even though time and again it proved to be unreliable judging body. After one particular bad trial, Harry found his disgust of the tradition more than he could stomach and had left the Ministry; disillusioned that he couldn't change more, but pleased with the change he had helped usher in.

To help with travel to and from the Ministry, several new access points were added to the floo network and new visitor entrances were scattered around London. Harry guessed this closet was one. With a little maneuvering he was able to sneak past the workers and into the back room. One door had a handle with an elaborate _M_. Inside was a broom, mop and bucket, one toilet and several different storage boxes, along with one oddly placed phone. Harry picked up the phone. There was no dial tone, but on a whim he dialed 6-2-4-4-2. A woman's voice suddenly spoke through the phone, "Thank you for visiting the Ministry of Magic. Make sure all arms, hands, and other body parts are secure."

The next few moments were incredibly uncomfortable. The phone receiver lit up once and then Harry felt a familiar tug in his navel, similar to traveling by portkey. His body was twisted and sucked into the phone and then instantly spit back out in full shape inside a fireplace at the Ministry. Other people were appearing behind him, so quickly Harry stepped out. The whispers started immediately: "Harry Potter." "That's Harry Potter!" "The One Who Lived!" A ring of people formed around him, edging closer, hands out to touch him, to speak to him, to be near him. He did what he always did, what he could do. He shook their hands and heard their voices, all the while trying, with a modicum of success, to continue walking. If they managed to stop his progress he would be stuck for hours. Seeing all these people was hard on Harry. Despite destroying Voldemort, he never felt he deserved the credit. Without countless others, both dead and alive, Harry would have failed. Any time he tried explaining he was called modest and humble. No matter how many times he tried to argue, he alone was held most responsible for Voldemort's demise.

The mob of people had finally managed to stall Harry completely near the remnants of the Fountain of Magical Brethren in the middle of the atrium. All that remained was the tall gold wizard, wand pointing towards the heavens. Harry was starting to get overwhelmed. The witches and wizards were flocking to him as if they hadn't seen him in a long time; belatedly it dawned on Harry that he hadn't been to the Ministry in years. He should have made arrangements to avoid this. Thankfully, a tall dark skinned man in deep purple robes made his way through the crowd. Along with him were four of five Aurors, wands out, requesting the crowd leave and carry on with their business. By the time the man reached the center, Harry was extremely pleased to see the Minister of Magic himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Well, if it isn't Harry Potter," Shacklebolt remarked lightly with an extended hand. "I was wondering what caused such a scene."

Harry shook the hand, taking a deep breath. "Sorry about that, Sir."

Shacklebolt waved the apology away with a smile. "So what brings you to the Ministry? Reconsidering my offer?"

"No..." Harry replied slowly, "I'm actually here to visit Hermione."

"Ah, such a pity." Shacklebolt placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, "We could use you, Harry. Being an Auror, it was in your blood!"

Maybe it was how he phrased it, but Harry shrugged out from under the hand weighing him down. Shacklebolt was a good man, a good minister, and a good Auror, but he was still blind to certain injustices. "Sorry, Sir. My reasonings still stand."

The older man sighed and nodded with resignation. "Very well, Harry." He motioned for the other Aurors to follow him. The crowd was fully dispersed now, and Harry quickly went to the lift that would take him to Hermione's office.

After a knock, Harry was invited in. Hermione's office was a bit of a contradiction. Some parts, like the wall to wall bookshelf, were kept immaculately organized, each book and resource carefully arranged with a system that Harry never bothered to ask. However, a large bulletin board was clustered with sticky notes and memos, images of at least five non-human species, and snippets of different languages, all together in a chaotic college. Hermione's desk was neater, but still books and folders were stacked high in several different towers. Hermione was hovering over a large tomb, hair up and wearing a dark blue robe. She smiled as Harry came in and gave him a brief hug. "I thought maybe you forgot! You're so late," she admonished lightly.

"Sorry," he said lamely as he sat in one of two visitors chairs, one leg crossed over the other.

Hermione placed a ribbon to mark her spot in the book and then closed it, moving it aside so she could see Harry easier. "So, how was your date last night." Hermione's entire face lit up as she leaned forward and Harry grimaced. "That bad? What happened?"

Suddenly Harry started laughing. After his meeting with Draco this morning and knowing that he hadn't destroyed his chance, the whole event seemed comical. "Oh, Hermione, it was a disaster!"

"What? Why? And why is it funny?" Omitting a few particular details, Harry proceeded to tell Hermione how he ended up shit faced drunk on such an important night. "Oh Harry, you didn't!"

"'Fraid so." He brought two fingers to his temple, rubbing it in small circles. "Still have the headache that goes along with it." Hermione shook her head in disbelief. Now for the hard part. His conversation with Draco earlier made it painfully clear to Harry that he needed to tell his friends about his new situation, preferably before they heard from someone else. Starting with Ron was absolutely out of the question, but if Harry could gain Hermione's approval, she could help him with Ron. Harry inhaled deeply. "There was something else too, 'Mione, something really important." He paused, nervous. Moment of truth: "I may have stretched the truth a bit when I said I was dating a lady."

Hermione smiled, "You know we don't stand on ceremony. I'm sure she's still a lovely witch."

"Er...no," Harry tried again, "Not a witch."

"Oh." Hermione looked surprised. "A muggle?"

Harry slapped himself on the forehead with a loose palm. "No. I'm not doing this right." He sat forward, looking Hermione right in the eye. "I'm dating another guy, Hermione." Harry wasn't exactly sure what reaction he was expecting, but it wasn't the blank expression on Hermione's face. He wasn't sure if he'd ever seen Hermione's face lack so much emotion. After several uncomfortable moments of silence, Harry dared to speak. "Hermione?"

Some life came back to Hermione and she leaned back, blinking several times. A frown crossed her face and she snatched her wand, uttering a few incantations before facing Harry again. "I don't understand. I mean, what? A guy? As in, a _man_? I'm confused. Harry, how long…" she motioned to him with hands out, palms up, almost pleading for more of an explanation.

"Yeah…" He allowed an apologetic smile to grace his lips. "Sorry to spring this on you…"

"Spring this on me!? What about you? Harry, are you sure? I mean, what about Cho, what about Ginny!? What does this all mean!?" She wasn't exactly screaming, but her voice was slowly rising in pitch. Harry wondered if it was a sound proofing spell she cast earlier because she certainly wasn't trying to be quiet.

And about Cho and Ginny. He tried to remember what being with either of them had felt like and was surprised that he didn't feel anything. No passion, no remorse, no regret, nothing. Then, for contrast, he thought of Draco. Warmth instantly spread from his chest. He remembered every touch, every kiss, every moment as if it was just now happening. "This isn't anything like Cho or Ginny, Hermione. I've...I've never felt like this about anyone, ever!" Swallowing, he met Hermione's wide eyes, "And that's why I hesitated to tell you. To have this now, in my life, but to lose you and Ron's friendship over it, I'm not sure what I would do." Harry hadn't realized how true that statement was until he said it out loud. For so long Hermione and Ron were the only people he truly cared for. There was a moment when Ginny was also included in that list, but she rarely spoke to him anymore. Hermione and Ron were his family. To lose them to gain Draco was an unwinnable situation. Some of his desperation must have shown on his face.

Hermione choked back a sob and ran around the desk, wrapping her arms around Harry's neck. "Harry, you'd never lose us!"

"You might want to hear the rest before saying that."

"There's more!" She pulled away, wiping at a few tears on the edge of her eyes. "It won't matter. You're my best friend, Harry. Whatever makes you happy makes me happy."

"And Ron?"

"Let me worry about Ron." She sniffed and sat in the other visitor's chair, looking apprehensive. "So, what else is there?"

Might as well say it quickly and get it over with, like ripping off a bandage. "It's Draco Malfoy." That awkward silence returned, but only lasted half the time as Hermione rushed to her wand, pointing it at Harry. A spell was on her lips and Harry put his hands up in a weak defense. "Hey, what are you doing!?"

"Checking for spells."

Harry sighed and got to his feet, reaching out to lower Hermione's wand. "I'm not bewitched, at least, not by magic," he added in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Reluctantly Hermione dropped her wand, but crossed her arms instead. "Then how can you explain this? _Malfoy_? After all he has done to us! To you! After everything! He hates you!" She was legitimately yelling now, face red and hands clenched in fists.

It was Harry's turn to frown now, collapsing back into the chair. "He doesn't hate me." He thought back on those memories, the exhausted and frightened teenager Malfoy and compared it to the Draco he knew now. "I don't think we ever really knew him. Some of that was our fault, some his."

"Ugh, how can you trust him!? What could he want?"

Harry brought his hand to chest and closed his eyes, thinking back to Draco's office. Those silver eyes boring into him, the soft lips, the caresses, the way he whispered his name_._ Every inch of Harry's body screamed out that Draco was sincere. "He doesn't want anything from me, 'Mione." Harry paused, relishing the memory one more time. "He doesn't care that I'm _the _Harry Potter." He smirked, "I don't think he ever cared. To him, I'm just Harry."

"This is too much." She furrowed her brows. "Ron won't understand this. He has too much pent up hatred for Malfoy."

"I was afraid you'd say that." Harry bit his lip. "Have coffee with us tomorrow. Just talk to Draco, try and see what I see." She hesitated, biting at a nail. "It would mean a lot to me. He means a lot to me." Still no answer. "Please."

"Alright. Alright. But, I think I'm going to keep this from Ron for now. And if you want my advice, you'd do the same. He's not likely to take any of this well."

Harry leaned forward and kissed Hermione on the cheek. "Thank you. Now, did you make any final choices for the anniversary party?"

Draco inspected his reflection once more in an ornate mirror his mother claimed was over a hundred years old. Being completely non magical it was one of very few items Draco had been allowed to keep as the Ministry stripped Malfoy Manor bare. The shining surface was set in dark wood, carved vines and flowers with thorns adorning the sides. Draco could see his entire body in the mirror and he checked his outfit for any flaws. He wasn't sure what Harry's co-workers and friends were expecting, so he decided to dress casual. Well, as casual as Draco knew how: black fitted jeans, grey converse, a black long sleeve hoodie, and a grey denim jacket completed the outfit. He finished by running product through his hair, brushing it back and to the side.

He left his flat and headed for the DLR. Draco knew the general location of _Seven Thirty One_, but had never actually been there. Riding the rail also gave him time to think, and like most of his thoughts lately, they centered on a certain green eyed man. Draco was trying his best to keep his senses together, keep his emotions from running away from him, but Harry had an ability to strip all his defenses bare. Any day he expected Harry to realize that Draco was hardly worth the effort. It was a moment Draco feared. Almost in spite of his own misgivings, Harry had worked his way under Draco's armor. Each touch, each kiss, each second he spent with Harry the more Draco felt alive. It was intoxicating and excruciating. Draco had water again; he dreaded going back to the desert.

He watched the city lights and cars streaming by. A part of his thoughts tried to reassert some optimism. Harry had made it perfectly plain that he knew what he was getting into. Though Draco doubted that, it was still reassuring. After all, it was Harry that sought him out. It was Harry that first kissed him. It was Harry that crashed into Draco's life, sweeping him away. And it was to Harry that Draco advanced.

His stop came up and Draco got off the DLR, taking a moment to orient himself. The street was quiet, Monday not being a popular time to visit the bars and fancy restaurants. Most storefronts were dark. Draco walked a bit before finding an alley that led to the back of several restaurants. Harry told him to come this way; the restaurant was officially closed. Halfway down the alley he saw lights and heard laughter from inside. A back door had the number "731" in small painted numbers. Draco knocked, then waited with hands in his pockets. Though not raining, the air was still chilly.

The laughter died down briefly, replaced by muted voices in conversation. Draco wasn't left waiting for long, the door opened and the object of Draco's desire was there, back lit by the restaurant. Harry was wearing a short sleeved chef's jacket, the top buttons undone and flipped back casually. He smiled broadly at Draco before reaching for him and bringing him into the restaurant.

"You're just in time."

Draco followed Harry down a short hall and into a large open dining room. Chairs were stacked on several round tabled, and the room was only half lit, but Draco could tell the restaurant was beautiful. The kitchen on the left was warm, heating the entire room enough that Draco quickly discarded his jacket. A group of people, men and women, were scattered on three different tables, all trying unsuccessfully to mask their curiosity as Harry continued to grin in what Draco privately and affectionately referred to as his "idiot grin".

"Hey guys! This is Dra..ke," Harry corrected in time, giving Draco a sly smile. "He's my guest tonight." Just in case there was any ambiguity to that statement, Harry slipped an arm around Draco's waist, eliciting a small smile from Draco in return.

Harry's friends must have been expecting something like this, for they just waved and a few raised their glasses to a chorus of different 'Hello's', 'Cheers', and 'Evening'. Draco relaxed a bit and returned Harry's embrace. "Pleasure to meet you all."

Conversation continued casually as Harry, that same smile on his face, turned to Draco. "I'm glad you came," he said as he lightly touched Draco's sleeve.

Draco was never one for open displays of affection; he surprised himself when he returned the gesture, cool fingers brushing a strong arm under the loose jacket sleeve. They stood like that for several moments, communicating only with eyes, only with those small touches. The room and all its occupants faded away until there was only Draco and only Harry. A surge of wild emotions coursed through Draco and it took all his self discipline and self control not to embrace Harry, his fingers tightened on Harry's arm and Harry responded in turn, both needing the extra support. There was something happening between them. When Draco wasn't busy trying to convince himself that this was all a mistake, like now, he could feel it down to his core. He gravitated toward Harry, like a tide to the full moon, and like the tide he was powerless against the pull. At the same time, he was grateful when a chef stuck his head through the double kitchen doors, hollering for Harry's help. The moment was broken, but not forgotten.

Harry took a step back, breathing deeply, a strange look in his eyes. "Uh, yeah. Be right there," he managed to say. He looked torn, like he wanted to say a thousand different things to Draco, but he kept glancing at the kitchen.

Draco, still caught up in that strange wave of emotions, lightly kissed Harry on the mouth, not to start something they couldn't finish, but a promise to continue later. "Go on." He felt his eyes sparkling. "I'll mingle." Harry hesitated one more minute, before nodding and wordlessly headed for the kitchen.

Internally, Draco shook off the moment and embraced his Drake Black persona. He walked toward a table that had several different decanters of wine set on a pristine white tablecloth with wine glasses stacked in a pyramid. He lifted a few decanters, smelling the aromas before pouring himself a glass of Merlot that he easily identified as coming from the Bordeaux region. Sipping, he suddenly realized a man and woman had approached him. They both wore chef's jackets and silly anxious expressions on their faces. "Hello," Draco said conversationally with raised eyebrows, his greeting nearly a question.

"Um, hi." The woman spoke first. She had long brown hair that was pulled back into a tight ponytail. "I'm Mary, and this is Eric," she lightly elbowed the man. He was tall, though, shorter than Draco, with dark red hair. They shook hands.

"Nice to meet you."

An awkward moment of silence followed. Draco didn't know these people, and though he was being polite, he had no idea what kind of conversation to have with them. Thankfully, the woman perked up.

"So, how long have you known Harry?"

_Ah, _Draco thought, _a friendly inquisition. They were going to judge him then. Fine by him. _Draco had been interrogated by men much more frightening than a young muggle man and woman. "How long have I known Harry?" Draco echoed with a mysterious smile. "Nearly my whole life. We went to school together."

"Really!"

Draco drank his wine and decided to let the two fill in the rest with their own imaginations. No need to mention that he and Harry were constantly at each other's throats as teenagers, the bitterest of enemies. When no more information was forthcoming, Eric asked the next question. Draco answered as honestly as he was able, and tried to be friendly, but his attention was split between Harry's friends and Harry himself. He was walking from the kitchen, several trays balancing on his arms, reminiscent of their first breakfast together so many changes ago. Draco followed him with his eyes, drinking him in. Harry was so animated, happy and alive and not afraid to show it. Draco had a hard time expressing his emotions so freely, a consequence of growing up a Malfoy. His father had raised him to believe showing emotion was a weakness, and Draco struggled with it still. Harry though, he laughed as he set the trays down, multi-tasking organizing the food on a long table, writing on small pieces of paper as he spread the food out, all the while talking and joking with his staff.

Apparently Draco had been friendly enough with the two younger chefs. They both gladly included him in the tasting, explaining that each station had a prepared course, but in miniature. It was their job to grade each meal and to suggest a wine to go with it, making their choices on the square papers at each location. At the end, the meals that had the highest count would be given a trial run. Soon, Draco got swept up in the friendly competition. The chefs that had prepared trials were play insulting the others. Everyone laughed and ate and drank, and at the heart of it all was Harry. Harry joking and laughing, so effortlessly comfortable and effervescent.

By the time the winner was chosen (both to cheers and jeers), the restaurant was cleaned and the workers gone, Draco was utterly impressed with Harry. Most of the lights were dimmed, they were all alone, and Harry was casually sitting on a table top, a towel in his hands. He exhaled a loud breath, "Phew. Well? What do you think?" He gestured around the room, obviously proud.

Draco made his way closer, pausing with a few inches between them. "It's amazing." Harry beamed a bright smile at him that effectively removed any hesitancy on Draco's part. He adored that smile; adored that _he _was the reason for it, and suddenly the small distance between them was too much. Draco moved forward, in between Harry's legs so that they were chest to chest. Though slightly startled, Harry didn't pull back, but reached up, resting his hands on Draco's shoulders. That strange intensity returned, and this time, instead of fighting it, Draco surrendered to it, capturing Harry's mouth as a wave of emotion crashed over him. Harry responded in turn, deepening the kiss. Hands, his cool and Harry's fiery hot, were roaming everywhere, through hair, over shirts, under shirts, his wrapping around Harry's waist, pulling him closer so that he could feel every curve and muscle against him, Harry pushing into him, one leg curled around his own. And still it wasn't enough, wouldn't be enough until he could touch and love every inch of Harry. He broke off a kiss, using both hands to cup Harry's face, drowning in the emerald eyes that met his own. There was no question on Harry's face, just an openness that made Draco softly kiss him again and again before caressing Harry's cheekbones with his thumbs. "Harry," he whispered as a start. A chill went through Harry and Draco smiled, lightly kissing him again. "Harry, come home with me." Green eyes closed briefly, leaning into Draco's hands, and when they opened Draco had his answer.

He apparated them into his flat, holding onto Harry's arms as he gazed about the room wide eyed. The wonder was short lived. Harry returned his attention to Draco, running his hands under the black hoodie. "Take this off," he half commanded half suggested.

Draco did as he was told, lifting the shirt and then dropping it to his living room floor. He caught Harry taking a shaky breath as one hand reached out to touch his skin. Draco stepped into it, welcoming the warmth that seemed to radiate off Harry. Without speaking he grabbed the bottom of Harry's chef jacket and, with Harry's assistance, worked it up and over until it too dropped to the floor. They stood still, Harry's hands on Draco's waist, Draco's slowly moving from Harry's chest to his shoulders, trying to catch his breath. The desire he felt for Harry was unreal, unlike any feeling Draco had ever experienced. It consumed him totally. All he wanted was Harry, to have him always look at him this way, with trust and desire and another emotion that Draco couldn't identify, but that didn't matter. His entire being cried out for Harry and his body responded, hardening as he bent into a deep kiss. Harry pressed against him and Draco moaned into Harry's mouth lost in a small ecstasy. With some effort he managed to pull away, taking a few backward steps deeper into his dark flat, very aware of Harry's eyes following him. Only the city lights from the open window blinds illuminated the room. It was enough for Harry to see Draco's outstretched white hand, and it was enough for him to walk forward, sure and confident and take that hand. Draco, still walking backward, led Harry into the bedroom, and Harry followed, closing the door behind him.

A lilting tune, increasing and decreasing in volume, finally penetrated Draco's conscious mind. His room was still mostly dark, a mixture of different blacks and greys, telling him it was well before sunrise. If someone was calling his mobile this early there was an emergency. However, not one second went by that Draco forgot the sleeping man next to him.

Harry was still breathing deeply, head resting on Draco's shoulder, brown hair fanned out on the pillow. He was on his side, one bare leg and arm across Draco's body, both under a thick silk comforter. Certain moments came back to Draco as he gazed down. _Moving inside Harry, skin to skin, Harry calling out his name as he found his own release, Draco holding on to him until he found his. _He brushed some hair out of Harry's eyes, more in awe than ever. Harry surprised Draco as a lover, learning quickly and eagerly. There was no hesitancy, no holding back. Harry had loved Draco with pure abandon, fueling his own passion. Though Draco was no virgin, the night had been one new experience after the other, sometimes moving slowly and sensually, sometimes urgently and passionately. It was all new because it was Harry.

The mobile began ringing again, and with a sigh Draco tried to slip out of bed without waking Harry. It didn't quite work; green eyes flickered opened and then shut. Harry reached for Draco, blindly finding his hand. "What're you doing?"

Draco kissed Harry's fingers and then reclaimed his hand. "Someone's calling me. Go back to sleep."

"You should turn the bloody thing off and come back to bed."

Pulling on some loose night pants Draco grinned at the dozing man in his bed. He'd never heard Harry so irritable. It was adorable. "I'll be right back." His answer was a deep sigh. A little torn, Draco decided to check the phone. If it wasn't a true emergency at the shop he'd do as Harry suggested. He could think of a few ways to get Harry back into a good mood.

Unfortunately, it was a serious problem. An entire shipment of cloth was stuck in customs' limbo, only to be freed by a generous donation. Draco hated some of the workers on the dock, always finding a way to bleed him a little dry. He should be able to make the trip in an hour, if he was lucky. Back in his room he stood at the foot of his bed. Harry's shape was just discernible under the heavy comforter, the back of his head and one arm exposed. Draco crawled over the edge, placing knees and hands on either side of Harry's body, lowering some of his weight down. Draco pulled back the comforter and lightly kissed an exposed shoulder. "Hey, I have to go."

Harry turned around, sighing as he stroked Draco's arms on either side of him. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'll be back in an hour."

A distracted frown crossed Harry's face as he held onto Draco's steady arms. "I forgot to tell you...Hermione is joining us for coffee today." To hide a bit of his irritation, Draco rolled off Harry and tried to school his expression into curiosity without the vexation that he felt. It didn't work, Harry saw right through him and edged himself out of the bed in all his glory. "I'm sorry," he said softly as he caught Draco in an embrace. "I had other things on my mind last night." Draco grinned in spite of himself and returned the embrace, arms wrapped tightly around Harry. "It would mean a lot to me," Harry finished quietly.

"Enough to forgive me for running out on you this morning?"

"Fair enough."

"Alright. I'll meet you there then." He kissed Harry's cheek and then hurriedly got dressed for the day as a very attractive and very nude man watched him from his own bed. It was a sight that Draco could easily get used to. With one more lingering look at Harry's form, Draco left the flat.

So now Draco was riding the DLR once again, but this time he was travelling away from Harry. This hiccup couldn't have come at a worst time. Draco thought back to his orders and knew this particular cloth wouldn't be needed until after the New York show, but leaving it on the dock was out of the question. First, he doubted they would put it in a safe place, and two, he wouldn't put it pass them to charge him a holding fee. He got off the rail and an uncomfortable chill ran down his spine as he approached the dock. It was too quiet. Usually one could hear the whine of cranes, smell the exhaust of the ships. The workers typically shouted at each other with their gruff accents, but there was nothing. Not even a few noisy seagulls. Draco stepped onto the dock, waves lapping at the wooden boards.

The first spell missed him, but not by much. Draco reached for his wand, weaving a protego charm. The second attack hit the premature shield, knocking Draco back and cancelling the spell. He jumped to his feet, running for one of the warehouses along the river for cover. A flash of light momentarily blinded him and he dropped to the ground, feeling more than seeing another spell fire over his head. "Shit!" He got to his feet and fired off a few spells for cover as he ran, sliding as he put an old building between him and his unknown attacker. Trying to calm his breathing, Draco listened. Someone was walking his way, steps rough on the wood. Draco edged down the building, careful not to make any sound.

"Come out, little blood doesn't have to hurt." The man had a cockney accent that Draco didn't recognize. He laughed, "It doesn't _have _to, but it will."

Quickly Draco turned the corner, a split second before the man launched a red tinged spell. Draco dared to peak out, hoping he knew this person, but he had never seen him before. Death Eaters work cloaks and masks to hide their identity. Though the mask was gone, his assailant still wore the tale tell robe of a Death Eater, though is was more brown with dirt and grime. Thinking on his feet, Draco wordlessly wove another shield. No Unforgivables had been cast yet, a shield wouldn't protect against those, but there were several other spells capable of taking a life that would be stopped. Taking a deep breath, Draco stepped out from behind the building. He hadn't survived numerous attempts on his life by taking a defensive stance, and he wasn't going to start now. "Well, come on!" He shouted defiantly.

A cruel chuckle came from behind Draco mere moments before a spell shot at him. Draco flicked his wrist, parrying the spell. Draco shot off a trial spell, testing the man's defenses, getting his first good look at the man. He was older than Draco, in his mid thirties with dirty hair and a tall form under the dirty and tattered robe. One tooth was longer than the others, hanging down past his bottom lip. He crudely knocked Draco's spell down, a thin smile spreading on his unshaven face. "Draco Malfoy. I've spent a long time trying to find you." Several spells volleyed toward Draco and he deflected them one after the other. There was power behind the spells, but not much finesse.

"Sorry, I don't seem to remember having the pleasure." Draco fired a stunning spell that the man sent ricocheting into a building, exploding into a fireball.

"Fool. You think you can forget your oath!? Your word?" The man lifted his dirty brown sleeve, exposing the Dark Mark.

Startled, Draco took a step back. Since Voldemort's death the Dark Mark had faded away. It was unnerving to see one so clear. Draco regained his composure. "Voldemort is dead! The oath is dead!"

"Never!" The man attacked, moving forward as Draco warded off the spells, feet sliding back from each impact. "Blood traitor! You were chosen and you turned your back on the Lord. It shall not be forgotten!"

_Shit_. Draco was losing this battle. Usually the fanatics were weak, clinging to some delusional hope that Voldemort would return and honor them for their work. This man was different. He was out for straight revenge. It made him deadlier. The fire managed to spread to several more buildings, in the distance fire sirens could be heard. A large explosion knocked both men off their feet, thick black smoke billowed over them. Draco got his knees, covering his mouth to avoid the smoke, and readied an apparition spell.

"It doesn't matter if you run." The man yelled through the smoke. "Draco Malfoy, wherever you go, I'll find you!"

Draco cast the spell, holding his breath until he realized he wasn't followed back to his office, the first place he could envision. Shaken, Draco fell back from his knees, leaning against the wall. He took several deep breaths, trying to come to grips with such a close encounter. Except for one, all the other attempts on his life paled in comparison. Those wizards were hardly more than entry level goons holding on to the smallest of hopes that Voldemort would return like he did before. To them, culling the unworthy (meaning those who refuted Voldemort) would increase their standings with the lord when he returned. Draco had easily defeated the last five attacks, leaving confused wizards wandering the streets of London with no memory. It was cleaner than killing them. He realized he was still clinging to his wand as a particularly nasty memory resurfaced. It was the reason he turned his back on the Wizarding World.

_He was nineteen, bitter and angry at the world. Every day the Ministry conducted raids on the Manor. His mother and father stoically allowed the intrusion. Draco questioned everything. If the Ministry was going to confiscate their belongings, even after helping them, Draco wanted to know why and where it was going. The Aurors ignored him, continuing their pillage and Draco was helpless to stop them. One Auror in particular seemed to find perverse enjoyment in stripping the manor. He was a brute of a man, half of his face scared. His name was Cooke, and Draco hated him. In a fit of rage Draco left the Manor, hoping some fresh air would calm him down._

_He found himself in the topiary garden, the one true green place on the grounds. The hedges had been carefully maintained for years, some depicting wizards, some magical creatures, some just maintaining the shape of the meandering path. Draco rarely came here; not out of dislike, he just always seemed too busy. He trailed his fingers along the leaves noticing some unruly growth and sighed. For better or for worse, this was his life now. A near prisoner in his home, the Ministry constantly watching and taking what didn't belong to them. Pausing at a stone bench, Draco sat for a second, leaning back to gaze at a hazy sky. _

_The first spell struck Draco in the arm, sending a thousand shocks of pain coursing down his body. Though surprised and caught off guard, Draco recognized the spell and quickly cast the counter. Another spell came at him, a whirling black mass that left the bench he had just been sitting on into dust. Wand out, Draco ran toward the Manor. He wasn't far. A flash of red and orange, and the path before him caught on fire. Draco skidded to a stop, scrambling backward as the flames licked his hands. Caught, he spun slowly around. A wizard was running toward him, face obscured by the traditional Death Eater mask and it was then that Draco knew he was in peril. They both cast spells at the same time, Draco wordlessly flinging all his power at the Death Eater. He never saw what spell he cast, for the Death Eater's spell hit its mark, throwing Draco down to the ground in a cold oblivion. _

_He woke surrounded by people he didn't recognize in lime green robes. They fussed at him and pestered him, asking him questions that didn't make sense. He tried to sit up, but quickly reconsidered as sharp pain stabbed him in the eyes. _

"_Mr. Malfoy, if you'll just lie still a few more moments, we'll have you put right."_

_Draco did as he was told, eyes closed and body taught. A few facts were starting to make sense as his brain started working again. One, he was at St. Mungo's, he recognized the hideous robes. Two, he was alive. Three, that meant he survived the Death Eater's attack. Four, he felt horrible. Five, what happened to said Death Eater? He tried to ask a question, but his words came out garbled, "Eat where death is?"_

_The healer didn't miss a beat, "Don't worry, you're safe. A few Aurors want to speak to you about the attack."_

_Draco felt a wash of relief as the pain in his head abated and he dared to open an eye. When no pain followed he opened both, taking in his surroundings. He was in a private room, bright and light. As he sat up the group of healers left the room. One remained, an older woman that reminded Draco of Madam Pomfrey. She handed Draco a cup full of a frothy potion that had every indication of tasting foul. "Drink up and have a bite of this," she placed a chocolate bar on his lap. "The Aurors will be here momentarily."_

_Quickly Draco downed the potion and stuffed a bit of chocolate in his mouth, swallowing and managing to sit up before two men came into his room. The antithesis of the Death Eaters, the Aurors wore colorful robes, a kaleidoscope of cascading colors that Draco found in poor taste. He recognized Cooke from the Manor, the other was unknown. They approached his bedside, arms crossed and frowning._

"_Where is the Death Eater?" Draco finally managed to ask. _

_The Aurors gave each other a look. "What spell did you use on him, Mr. Malfoy?"_

_Draco tried to think back. "I don't remember." There was another look exchanged and Draco felt a tinge of nervousness. "Is he here? Who was it? What did he want?"_

"_We don't know."_

_Auror Cooke took a deep breath. "He's dead, Mr. Malfoy. Whatever you hit him with killed him."_

_Fear crept down Draco's back. "I...I didn't mean to. He was attacking me!"_

"_Still, we can't have Death Eaters killing each other. It doesn't look good for the Ministry." He scratched at a scar near the bridge of his nose._

"_I'm not a Death Eater," Draco spat harshly. The Auror pointed to his left forearm where the outline of the Mark could still be seen, slightly faded, but still very defined. Draco glared at them and forced himself not to cover his arm. "It was in self defense."_

_Auror Cooke sat on Draco's bed, ignoring the fact that Draco moved away from him. This close, Draco just noticed three scars that ran across the Aurors face, from the bottom of his right eye down the cheek, across his lips and to his chin. The scars moved as the Auror sighed, a false sympathetic sigh that irritated Draco. "Draco, may I call you Draco?" Draco wisely kept his thoughts to himself and the Auror continued. "You have to see it from our point of view. We're supposed to have rounded up all the rogue Death Eaters. There were no witnesses, no signs that the Malfoy wards had been tampered with, and you had just left... Isn't it possible that you killed some poor grounds keeper and covered it up?"_

_Draco couldn't stop the horrified expression on his face. "No." He said adamantly._

_The other Auror copied the pseudo sigh. "We all make mistakes, Draco, but the Ministry can't let it be known that there are Death Eaters still on the loose. So, we'll make you a deal. You confess to killing this poor gardener, and the Ministry might ease up on your parents. _

"_I'm not a murderer."_

"_We'll say it was an accident. A wayward spell you were practicing."_

_When Draco remained silent, Auror Cooke crossed his arms. "We could always just arrest you. No one would care if another Malfoy was imprisoned. But this way your parents can keep some of their dignity."_

And so Draco had made a deal with the two Aurors. He never told his parents, but they must have known, making plans to travel Europe shortly after. Draco had been bitter and hateful afterwards, nearly turning his entire back on the world he had known. For a few years he had lived peacefully in muggle London, but then the attacks started again. Each new wizard trying to destroy the blood traitor, Draco Malfoy. Draco didn't bother telling the ministry about these new threats. He figured they knew and didn't care or were so woefully ignorant that he couldn't count on them anyway. However, he took care of how he dealt with these wizards, becoming very skilled at Memory Charms. It had been years since an attack. Draco had finally let himself believe it was all in the past.

Yet, this man was powerful and focused. Draco dreaded facing him again, unsure who would be the victor. It was only dumb luck that Harry hadn't been with him. _Harry..._Ice cold fear gripped Draco. What if Harry had been there? There was only one person in the entire world that Death Eaters hated more than traitors and that was Harry Potter. And if Draco couldn't protect himself against this wizard, how could he protect Harry? A vision of Harry, bloodied and beaten, glassy eyed and unmoving on the ground assaulted Draco's thoughts sending Draco into a panic. _No!_ He couldn't let that happen. A deep pain pounded in his chest as he contemplated his next action, knowing it would hurt him and hurt Harry. He slowly got up off the floor, determination setting in. Harry might hate him for this. Merlin that was like a physical knife to his chest, but Draco pushed it down and away, staggering slightly to his chair. Harry needed to hate him. It was the only way to protect him. A deep maw of emptiness tried to consume Draco when he thought about life without Harry, but again he pushed through it, bolstering his defenses and his resolution. Draco would bear all the consequences, the crushing loneliness, the sense of betrayal, all of it, as long as Harry was safe. And for Harry to be safe, he needed to stay away from him.


	8. Chapter 8: Confusion

**Some language and slash coming at you. Just a head's up**

**Confusion**

Harry Potter was on cloud nine. He couldn't keep a smile off his face and kept saying good morning to people he passed on the street. Though a chilly, dreary day, Harry walked around in his own bubble of sunshine. His thoughts were a blur, circling and turning, always coming back to a certain blond that filled Harry with warmth just by thinking of him. And last night...Harry blushed as he pushed through the crowd. Last night had to be one of the greatest experiences in Harry's life. He remembered it so vividly.

_Draco leading him to a large bed in the dark, two sets of shoes being kicked off and Draco trailing kisses from Harry's jaw to collar bone. Harry was utterly engrossed, leaning against the mattress for support as Draco touched every part of Harry's bare chest, down to his waist, lightly tracing the space between his skin and pants, sending a shudder through his entire body. Draco leaned into Harry, one hand working at his pants button, the other pulling him into a kiss, whispering his name in between caresses, asking, questioning, wanting. No one said his name like Draco. Harry slid off his clothes and edged himself on the bed, followed by Draco a split second later. Though dark and unable to see clearly, he could make out a flash of silver eyes hovering over him, a single word on his lips: "Harry."_

That was enough remembering for now, Harry decided. He was going to struggle walking upright if he let those memories out. But oh they were precious to him. He made it to the coffee shop a little early, glancing around for Draco or Hermione. Neither were there, but with a shrug he went in. The barista shouted a hello and by the time Harry was at the counter both he and Draco's coffees were ready. He paid and took the drinks to their corner, the same corner where he and Draco fought and the same corner where he and Draco reconciled. It was a special corner. There he waited as he sipped his coffee. Hermione came not long after, ordering a strong tea instead of coffee.

"You're in a good mood today," she commented as she took a seat next to him. She was wearing a woman's pant suit that would look oddly at place in both wizarding and muggle London. Leave it to Hermione to find a way to accomplish that.

"I am." Harry said with a grin.

"Do I dare ask why?" Hermione had a knowing glint to her eyes.

Harry laughed. "You probably don't need to." Hermione had the decency to blush, which made Harry laugh again. "Thanks again for coming. Draco said he had some errands to run this morning, but he'll be here soon."

Harry and Hermione made pleasant conversation about work, passing the time. Harry began glancing at the door whenever it opened, but no tall blond man walked through. After twenty minutes or so, Harry began to get agitated.

"Could he have been delayed?" Hermione asked gently.

"I don't know." Harry decided to call Draco's mobile, frowning when it went straight to voicemail. He hung up without leaving a message. "That's odd."

"Maybe he's just somewhere with spotty service."

Harry tried to smile, but had a strange feeling suddenly, like something was wrong. Draco had cancelled on him before, but always called ahead. And it wasn't like him to be late. Draco had to be one of the most punctual people Harry knew. He started getting genuinely nervous when after forty five minutes passed and Draco still hadn't made an appearance.

Hermione looked regretful. "I have to go, Harry, I'm sorry. I'll be late for work."

"Yeah, of course." He gave her a hug and sat back numbly in his chair, feelings bruised and confused. He didn't notice her come back until she sat next to him again.

"I'm sure it's nothing Harry. His phone is probably empty and he got busy." Harry nodded absently, the day's brightness turning grey. Hermione sighed and kissed his cheek. "Call me later, alright? Mobile or owl." And then she was gone.

Frowning, Harry tried Draco's mobile once more and got the same response. A small bit of dread was fighting Harry's control. Dread, and a bit of anger. Draco knew this was important to him. He felt a little betrayed, but also concerned and curious. After a few moments of indecisiveness, Harry got up and went to the men's restroom. Once he was sure no one was in the stalls he apparated to Drake Black's Designs. He rang the buzzer and waited, unsure what to expect. One part of him wanted to demand some answers, an other part wanted some reassurance, a tiny part felt like a fool for bothering Draco at work. This was probably nothing, like Hermione said, he probably got busy. But a gnawing worry in his stomach told him something was off, and he wanted to find out what.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity to Harry's impatient mind, the door opened, but it was not who Harry wanted to see. Brian held the door open only an inch. "Oh, hey, Harry. Good morning."

"Hey. Is Drake around?"

A small hesitance let Harry know Brian was lying immediately. "No. I haven't seen him yet this morning."

Harry's mouth felt dry. He knew Brian was lying, by Brian's expression, he knew Harry knew. The only reason he would be saying this was if it came from Draco himself. Confused, but not willing to press for more information, Harry nodded and took a step back. "If you see him, tell him to call me."

"Sure thing, Harry." With an apology written all over his face, Brian closed the door, leaving Harry bewildered and anxious.

Brian stormed into Draco's office without knocking and slammed the door behind him. "What are you doing?"

Drake averted his gaze, staring at the blank wall. "What are you talking about?"

"Harry. I'm talking about Harry." Brian noticed that Drake flinched at the man's name, it was small, nearly imperceptible, but there nonetheless. "Why are you sending him away?"

"It was a mistake." His voice was quiet, distracted as he weighed his mobile phone in his hand.

"Who are you trying to convince, me or you, because you don't sound so sure."

Drake slammed a palm down on his desk and Brian jumped despite himself. "Dammit Brian, what do you know!?"

"Apparently I know you better than you know yourself. _You're_ making the mistake, Drake. Go out there and bring him back before you regret it!" Brian didn't have a chance to duck as Drake threw his mobile at him. The phone barely missed his head, smashing into pieces against the wall. Draco was visibly shaking, face a deathly white and anger in his eyes that made Brain take an involuntary step back. Then he became livid at his long time friend. "Fuck you!"

"Brian," Drake took in a breath, exhaling through his nose and leaning forward on his desk, still shaking. "If you don't get the fuck out of here, I'll make you get out."

Glaring, Brian almost called Drake out, almost. The room seemed to take on an energy of its own, heavy and thick and suffocating. He headed for the door, opening it and shaking his head. "Drake, I hope you know what you're doing." Then he closed the door behind him.

Draco dropped his head into his hands and tried to breathe through the wracking spasms attacking his lungs. Too close, too close. He almost lost his nerve. He was going to have to do better than that if he had any chance of going through with this plan. And he _had _to go through with it. Even if Draco managed to defeat this wizard, there was no guarantee others wouldn't come for him. He glanced at the faint scar of the Dark Mark on his arm, only really noticeable in certain light. It was his death sentence; he'd be damned if it was Harry's too. He just needed to have a stronger hold on his emotions, be colder. Yes, cold, like ice. He closed his eyes and searched for all his feelings, all his memories, all the emotions tied to Harry Potter. This would be the last time he allowed himself to think his name, to see his face, to remember his taste. Draco buried it all under a mental barrier of ice and rock. He imagined shards of freezing ice surrounding his heart, his mind, and let the chill permeate through him. Whenever he seemed to falter and an errant memory came through, Draco banished it ruthlessly. He would become cold and hard, and unfeeling as ice. Nothing would get to him. He glanced down at his glass desk and froze, startled by the dull eyes and stoic face. For a moment he thought he was looking at Lucius Malfoy, not the son. Flexing his hands, he let that image settle over him. Maybe he needed to be a little more like his father, callous and unfeeling. With a deep breath, Draco shut the door on his emotions, unaware that the room was also colder, tiny frost crystals spreading across his desk and up from the corners of the walls.

The rest of Tuesday passed Harry in a blur. He went through the motions of his life, but on auto pilot. Coworkers gave up trying to have a conversation, and eventually a head chef told Harry to go home, he was useless as a zombie. And yet, Harry was restless and anxious in his flat. He paced around his living room, hand trailing the couch, the saddest substitute ever. It was hard to sit still, hard for his thoughts to form any kind of coherent thought that didn't involve Draco. As the day wore on and the grey sky changed to the black night, Harry was exhausted. As hard as he tried he couldn't imagine why Draco was acting this way. Or maybe it was just Harry, too caught up in that dream, not wanting to see any warning signs. Had there been any? Harry knew Draco hadn't been thrilled about meeting Hermione, but was that enough for this cold shoulder? Or was it a cold shoulder at all? Maybe Draco had only wanted a fling...Harry shuddered. No, he may not have much experience at being with a man, but he knew Draco had feelings for him. So, why the iron curtain?

He wasn't sure when he fell asleep, but the daylight was bright from the kitchen. His neck and back cracked as he sat up from sleeping on the couch. Even after resting, he didn't feel any better. Almost automatically he dialed Draco's mobile, it went straight to voicemail again. A strange pain grabbed Harry's chest and he clutched at it until it ebbed away. In a hurry he took a shower and changed into clean clothes, adamant that he needed to speak to Draco, needed to understand what the other man was thinking. He found himself on the outside of Drake Black's Designs and dared to apparate inside. The spell met resistance and Harry glared at the warded building. He pushed the buzzer and waited. After five minutes and no answer he pushed it again and then again. No one came to the door and Harry's stomach dropped. Frustrated, he tried to remember the inside of Draco's flat, but couldn't get a clear image in his head. He had been too focused on Draco himself. With a shaky hand he brushed his hair out of his eyes. This couldn't be happening. How could Draco be so cold?

The rest of the day passed by as Harry did his best to keep in the moment. He consciously focused on what people said, otherwise their words got lost in Harry's jumbled thoughts. He made food and paid the bills and counted inventory; folded napkins, ironed tablecloths, dusted furniture, anything to keep his mind busy. By the time Hermione came over around seven in the evening, Harry had dark circles under his eyes. Wordlessly, she sat opposite him at his small breakfast nook, and put her hand out to him. Exhausted, hurt, lonely and confused, Harry placed his hand in hers with a dry sob.

"I don't know what happened, Hermione."

"Harry, I'm sorry."

With his free hand he ran his fingers through his hair in tired agitation. "I mean, not a word. Nothing." He refused to cry, but it was hard to fight off the ache that was left by Draco's absence and rejection. She gave him a sympathetic look, but remained quiet. "Serves me right, I guess." He said bitterly. "It was only Draco _fucking _Malfoy." Hermione's eyes widened slightly; it was rare Harry cursed. "That's what you're thinking, isn't it? That I'm an idiot, a fool for getting involved with him anyway?" His breath caught in his throat and he struggled to keep it together.

"Harry…"

"It's alright Hermione, you can be honest with me. You were never keen on this relationship anyway. I don't even know why it's bothering me so much. One night, one night. It's hardly anything!" Harry dropped his face in his hands, angry and ashamed at his weakness.

"Harry...Harry, look at me." He did so reluctantly through his fingers. She paused, pursing her lips before asking quietly. "Do you love him?"

A ragged breath escaped his mouth as he lay his entire head down on the table, glancing up, letting some of the anguish he felt show in his eyes. "What does it matter, Hermione? He doesn't love me."


	9. Chapter 9: A Hellish Week

**A Hellish Week**

Thursday came and Draco and his workers were making the final checks before boarding their flights. Most of his workers were giving him a wide berth, walking on eggshells; not from any outburst of emotion, but from a lack of one. When the transports were late, Draco seemed barely interested, allowing Brian to deal with the mess. Even now, as he boarded the plane, Draco was only half aware of what he was doing, walking with the crowd, boarding pass out. He would have missed his seat if Brian hadn't reached out and stalled him, hand on his elbow. They had come to some uneasy truce. As Draco withdrew more and more inside himself, Brian took on more of the responsibilities of getting Drake Black Designs to New York. Which apparently also included upgrading to first class seats for them. Draco sat down at the window, Brian next to him and absently nodded as his workers shuffled past. Soon he turned his gaze away and leaned his head against the cool window pane. In no time they were in the air. Some tiny piece of Draco was impressed with the ingenuity of muggles, but in his current state of mind, he wasn't able to hold on to that feeling for long. He sighed, shaking his head as Brian asked if he wanted a drink or something to eat. As of late, he didn't have much of an appetite, only eating small bits of food when absolutely necessary. He didn't want it. What he wanted he couldn't have...he shied away from those thoughts and watched as England faded out of view, closing his eyes and wishing everything would fade away as easily.

By the weekend Harry was doggedly determined to regain some semblance of normality to his life. Draco was long gone, across the ocean and in New York. A fact that did not offer Harry any actual comfort, but as long as he was out of the country, Harry found he could concentrate a little better. There was nothing he could do, no way to talk to Draco, and so Harry found himself on a thin sheet of sanity. Sure his heart was in shatters, sure he found himself back at an existential crisis, but he also found a new resolve. He didn't have the answers, may never have the answers, and so he gathered what strength he had and plowed through his days.

Being still was his enemy. Stillness caused his mind to wander, and his mind liked to ignore Harry's request not to focus on memories of a tall blond man, with liquid silver eyes and a cool touch. _That_ was definitely not helpful, and so he kept busy. When he wasn't obsessing over tiny details at _Seven Thirty One, _he was actively looking for chores. That was how Ron found him on Monday afternoon, cleaning out his medicine cabinet, relabelling and inventorying the potions and ingredients lined up in a neat semi-circle around him on the floor.

Ron had grown taller since their days at Hogwarts. He was lean, bright red hair longer, passed his chin. He wore leather riding gear and knelt down, surveying Harry's project. "This looks...boring…" He said lightly as he picked up a few vials, placing them carefully back where he got them.

Harry blew his bangs out of his eyes. "Needed done."

"Yeah? Sure you just don't need a distraction?" Harry eyed him suspiciously and Ron shrugged. "Hermione told me some...stuff. Thought, maybe you could use some company." When Harry didn't immediately answer, Ron stood with a quirky grin. "Come on. I want to show you something anyway." He held out a hand and waited until Harry grabbed it and hoisted him off the floor.

"Sure, why not?" Harry replied, glancing sourly at the mess on his floor.

"Brilliant." Ron pulled out a little gold key and held it between them, waiting for Harry to touch it. Harry, a few seconds later, realized it was a portkey. He added his grip to the key. With a word, the portkey was activated.

Harry had travelled numerous times by portkey, but he would never get used to the feeling of his navel being yanked and thrown through space, unravelling and unwrapping at a new destination. At least he didn't get sick anymore. He stretched and glanced around him. They were in a pretty little valley, though where, Harry was unsure. The rolling hills were dark green, the smell of recent rain in the air. The sun and clouds played a dance in the sky, fluffy shaped shadows mimicking on the ground. Nestled between the hills, Harry could just make out a quidditch pitch. The goal posts were up, as were the basic boundaries, triangle multi colored flags waving in the breeze. There weren't any spectator bleachers yet. Curiously, he turned to Ron who was beaming with pride.

"What do you think? It was George's idea, you know, start small, work our way up."

"This is yours?" Harry asked in awe.

Ron shrugged again and started walking toward the pitch. "Yeah. We were looking for something to invest in. Wheezes is doing really well right now. And, well, we thought, why not sponsor a team. That turned into, 'why not build our own pitch'." Ron was grinning. "I mean, it will never be large enough for the Cup, but for regional matches, it will do just fine."

"This is brilliant, mate. I'm happy for you." Harry followed a step behind Ron, hands in pants pockets. They made their way down to the field where a couple of brooms leaned against a wooden fence and a large brown box rattled, trying to break the restraints.

Ron grabbed a broom and tossed it to Harry, who caught it easily. "I thought maybe we could have a Seeker's Match," he suggested as he opened the box. The bludger was squirming, attempting to break out of its harness, but Ron ignored it. Instead, he picked up the Golden Snitch, making room for the delicate wings that spread out from the ball.

Harry was all smiles now, mounting the broom with a laugh. "I'll slaughter you," he said, accepting the offer.

"Yeah, yeah, we'll see." Ron jumped on his broom and let the Snitch go, watching as it zoomed into the air. He counted down, "Three, two, one, Go!"

The rest of the afternoon was spent chasing a tiny golden ball that was as keen to avoid being caught as Ron and Harry were as keen to catch it. Harry had to admit that Ron's skill as a Seeker had improved over the years, but he was still no match for him. They played several rounds until the sun was far on the horizon. Harry and Ron were lazily flying in circles around the pitch, Harry absentmindedly tossing the snitch up and down, catching it lightly before tossing it back up.

Ron edged closer to Harry, near enough to speak, but not touching. "So, um, guys, huh? This is...new and surprising."

"Tell me about it," Harry answered as he grabbed the snitch. He tried to keep some of the bitterness out of his voice, but knew he failed by the sympathetic look on Ron's face. Harry had a suspicion that although Hermione told Ron some things, she omitted a rather large piece of vital information. He hardly believed Ron would be so calm about this if he knew of Draco's involvement.

"Well," Ron urged on, "why don't you tell me? How long…" He let his question fade away as a he frowned, deep in thought. "Is this why it didn't work with Ginny?"

"No!" Harry exclaimed, but then he frowned as well. "Or at least...I don't know, Ron." He shook his head, "Nothing was right with her," he added sadly.

They flew on in silence. Harry was lazily spinning in a tight circle, watching as the sky and ground changed places, flip flop, flip flop, much like his own thoughts.

"And this guy," Ron spoke after a few moments, "it was right with him?"

He wasn't judging, Harry realized. He was just trying to understand. He righted himself, swinging the broom around until he was facing Ron. Harry decided to let his guard down and be brutally honest with himself. This was his best friend, and he was here, offering comfort in the only way he knew how. Harry smiled sadly, "He's everything I wanted...everything I want," he added in a whisper.

Ron rubbed his neck. "Bloody hell. I'm sorry. Want me to knock some sense into him?"

Harry laughed, both at Ron's eager face and the reaction Ron would have if he learned it was Draco they were talking about. "No, thanks though." He took a deep breath, feeling better than he had in several days. The hole that Draco left was still there, still cutting into him, but the edges weren't as sharp. He could at least breathe without being sliced by emotional wounds. Flying had helped. It had been a long time since Harry was on a broom. The freedom, the wind in his hair, the liberation, it did a lot to restore his spirits. "Thanks, Ron. I appreciate this."

They touched down and Ron squeezed Harry's shoulder. "Of course. You're still my best mate."

New York was supposed to be full of exciting sights and sounds. The lights, the endless stream of people and cars, the rush of new designs and clothes, the stress of putting on a successful show, all of it should have sparked some life into Draco...but it didn't. He knew his show was a success because people kept wanting his picture, kept congratulating him, kept touching his arm, his shoulder, kissing his cheeks in greeting. For the most part he acted the part, a role he had to play rather than his own life. Still, it sometimes became too much and he would lash out, bitterly insulting or criticizing those around him. Those minutes were followed by Brian doing damage control. _You know how artists are...He's under a lot of pressure right now._ Disgusted with the whole scene, Draco would often leave the wrap parties early.

Instead he would walk the streets of New York City. It was windier here, but not as cold as London. He wore just a light blazer, walking through dark dingy alleys and dim lit streets, unconcerned for his safety. Hell, the one time a man thought of mugging him he stopped short, frozen by the look in Draco's eyes. He had run the other way; Draco had just continued to walk. Maybe he was trying to out run his own feelings, maybe he was seeking something, but either way, he came back to his hotel suite every night, exhausted, but unable to sleep.

Sleep was dangerous; he couldn't control his dreams. He couldn't hold back the images of dark green eyes and passionate kisses that forced him awake, yearning and longing and then disgusted again at his weakness. And when he wasn't dreaming of a forbidden desire his dreams became more sinister. A forest, thick with trees and all manner of flora, surrounded him. At one time he knew the leaves and branches must have been thriving, he could almost imagine their verdant green, but a storm ravaged the land. The sky, dark, dark grey, assaulted the forest with freezing winds and blizzards that coated everything in the forest in a layer of ice. The forest was dying; and without knowing why this terrified Draco more than anything. He would wake shivering, as cold as the frost in the dream. He did all he could to avoid that place. Instead, he lounged in a chair most nights, a glass of whiskey in hand, watching the sky change colors from blackest night to greying dawn.

Brian watched him carefully, he knew. Watched him when he didn't think Draco noticed. Brian also forced him to stop everyone once in a while and eat, even if it was just a slice of toast. And like this morning, he stood over him until Draco finished a tea biscuit, trying hard not to choke on the crumbs. He managed half before he pushed it away. It all tasted like sand. He poured himself a shot of whiskey and Brian frowned. "Maybe go easy on that today." In response, Draco took the shot in one gulp. "Drake…"

"I don't want to hear it," Draco cut him off with a sharp gesture. The alcohol helped keep the iciness inside at bay, helped dull his senses when he was too weak to fight them off.

Brian put his hands up, a defeated motion. It was too early to fight with Drake, and he needed him to be on his best behavior at today's show. All the critics and reporters were coming to run a piece on Drake Black Designs. He mentioned it to Drake, who looked at him with sullen eyes.

"You speak to them." He said in a strange monotone.

Drake's behavior had been spiraling out of control since arriving in New York. And though Brian knew the reason, he didn't mention Harry's name anymore. He tried when they first arrived in New York, but Drake's reaction was alarming. It was like a mask slammed over the younger man's face, hard, cold and unyielding. Since then, Drake seemed stuck in a miasma, half awake, half asleep, and always with a haunted look in his sunken eyes. Brian knew he wasn't sleeping, or eating, and he was definitely drinking too much, but there was little Brian could do except watch his friend and safeguard his livelihood. He took a deep breath, rummaging through Drake's closet and selecting an outfit for him to wear. "I can't speak to them. They want Drake Black."

Drake turned toward the window, chin resting on a closed fist. "Drake Black," he scoffed, followed by a quick mumble that Brian didn't catch.

Brian brought over the day's selected suit and laid it on a spare chair across from Drake, who eyed it, but made no move to reach for it. "This is the last one. The last, and most important show, Drake. I need you to pull yourself together for this!" Drake continued his desolate stare at the clothes, finally picking up the fabric and running his fingers over it.

"Last one?"

"Yes," Brian said with a bit of exasperation. "Then we can go home." He knew it was the wrong thing to say immediately. Drake closed his eyes, closed him out, closed everything out like he had been doing all week. When they opened again, the grey that usually sparkled was dull and flat. Wordlessly he stood and grabbed a decanter of whiskey, moving slowly toward the bedroom. "Drake…" He tried to reach out, but Drake just held up one finger, the universal sign for stop, before closing the door behind him.

The show was turning out to be a great success. Each outfit continuously garnered great applause. Brian was busy, making last minute adjustments, giving last instructions, offering encouragements. When a strap of a dress snapped he was beside himself, scrambling to find a needle and thread to match the shiny chartreuse yellow. Giving up, he was about to make the dress a single strap, but he stopped in the middle of the crazy scene. Drake was there sewing the strap with a matching thread. Brian never knew how he did that, but was grateful for the skill now. Finished, Drake bit the string and straightened a few of the pleats, nodding for the model to go on. Their eyes met and Brian mouthed 'thank you'. Drake looked tired, dark bluish smudges under his eyes, but he had showed up. It meant the world to Brian, who had put as much tears, sweat and blood into Drake Black Designs as Drake himself. Together, they managed to pull off the show without another hitch. At the end of the show, Drake walked the catwalk himself, with thunderous applause. He even managed to give a few interviews that highlighted the effort of the entire team.

The after party was at the lobby of their hotel. All the workers and models were talking excitedly, corks popped out of champagne bottles, streamers were thrown around the room; everyone was happy. Drake mingled, an old fashioned in his hand filed with a dark liquor that Brian assumed was whiskey. It was the most outgoing Drake had been all week, and Brian's spirit started to rise. Maybe Drake was starting to come out of his funk, maybe the young man would start acting more like his friend and less like a frozen stranger. Hopeful, Brian continued to enjoy his evening; drinking and eating and laughing and congratulating everyone on a job well down. A quarter to midnight he realized Drake was nowhere to be seen. He asked around, but no one could remember him leaving. Frowning, and a little apprehensive, Brian decided to hunt his wayward friend down.

Brian made his way to Drake's suite, worried when the door was left open a crack. He knocked as he came in. "Drake? Drake, you in here?" All the rooms were dark; a few hotel lights here and there guided him. He checked the bedroom, the living room, the bathroom, but no Drake. He was about to leave when he noticed a curtain billowing lazily from an open window. Brian walked over, brushing the curtain aside. The small balcony was empty. Brian looked over the edge. Drake had wanted a top floor room, a fact that was just now starting to alarm Brian. He turned to go back in, but paused as a whiff of cigarette smoke cascaded down to him. Curious, he leaned against the balcony rail and glanced up, just making out a pair of black shoes hanging over the edge of the roof. "How the hell…" Brian looked around before noticing a metal ladder on the side of the building. It looked old, but went straight to the roof. Taking a deep breath, he climbed over the balcony railing and stretched until he caught hold of a rung. He didn't look down as he climbed the ten feet or so to the top of the hotel.

Drake was sitting towards the edge of the roof, angled with his knees bent. A cigarette was in one hand, a mostly empty bottle of liquor sat by the other. Brian made his way over slowly, avoiding the edge. Drake noticed him, taking a deep drag on the cigarette and exhaling in one thin stream of smoke.

"Hey, bloody hell. You quit smoking years ago, don't start now." His answer was another long drag. Brian walked closer, hands out for balance. Being so far up without a rail made him nervous, so he kept talking to distract himself and to hopefully knock some sense into the morose blonde. "You always said it was my worst habit. That it was going to kill me someday." Finally he reached Drake, sitting carefully beside him. He tried reaching for the cigarette, but Drake transferred it to his other hand, taking another hit before drinking straight out of the large bottle.

Drake was quiet for a moment, before sighing. "I'm already dying," a sad smile played on his lips, "so what does it matter?"

Brian motioned for the cigarette again. For a moment, Drake contemplated the burning embers before flicking the ash off the roof, handing the rest of the cigarette to Brian who nervously continued to smoke it. "You've been miserable, I'll give you that, but dying? Don't be so dramatic." Drake leaned back on his hands, gazing at the stars, silent and still. If it weren't for the shocking white of his hair and the paleness of his skin, he'd blend right in with the darkness, a shadow cloaked in black. Brian sensed a difference in him tonight, a frightening calm and clarity that only came when a momentous decision had been reached. Being out on the ledge, the cigarette, the whiskey, the sense of finality, all of it alarmed Brian. He grasped for something to say, something that might keep Drake's interest. "The show was amazing! You'll be in all the magazines and all the newspapers! It's everything we wanted, everything we worked so hard for!" Drake got to his feet, surprisingly steady for someone who spent the last four days half drunk. He stood on the very edge of the roof, looking down, arms crossed loosely. Brian's heart was pounding in his chest. "You're making me nervous," he said with a slight shake in his voice. "Doesn't the height bother you?"

"No," there was a mysterious smile on his lips that Brian saw once in a while. It was a smile that hid secrets.

"Well, it bothers me. Move back before you fall." He tried to make it sound more like a command and less like the plea it really was.

Drake hesitated, his expression scarily blank as he continued to stare down at the busy street below. And then, like a wave crashing on the shore, Drake stepped back, turning to him with a look of such utter desperation that Brian sucked in a deep breath. "What am I doing to do?" He whispered, returning to his previous sitting position next to Brian.

Brian exhaled a quivering breath, both terrified and relieved that Drake moved away from the ledge. Terrified, because he realized how close his friend was from the edge, both figuratively and literally. Relieved because Drake was finally talking to him. He drank from the bottle, grimacing as the whiskey burned his throat and then purposefully sat it down away from Drake. "Harry?" He asked softly.

"It's always Harry." Drake wasn't even trying to hide his despair, his eyes closing tight.

Brian lightly touched Drake's shoulder. "You need to talk to him. Hell, Drake, this has got you all nutters. Talk to him, tell him how you feel, go from there."

Drake glanced at him from the side. "He probably hates me."

"You don't believe that." Drake gave a slight shake of the head; a silent agreement. "Look, we're all done here in New York. Why don't you go home early? I'll get everything packed and ready for London." He stood and put the cigarette out on the roof tile, squashing the embers with his toe. "Go and find out. It has to be better than this."

Drake nodded, and then reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a long stick. Brian had seen it before, once or twice in Drake's office, when he thought he wasn't looking. He figured it was a good luck charm, especially how Drake held it, almost reverently. "Hey Brian, do you believe in magic?"

A strange non-sequitur. "Magic? As in, pull a rabbit out of a hat?"

"No," he grinned as he got to his feet. It was the same secretive smile from before, but without some of the iciness. "Do me a favor, alright?"

Suddenly the dread came back full force. "What are you up to?"

He held the stick to his side, "Just….don't panic. I'll see you in London in a couple of days." He turned toward the edge, took a deep breath, waved the stick and then was gone.

Both of Brian's ears popped, like he changed altitude too quickly. "Drake!" He scrambled for the edge and peered over, but there was no commotion on the ground below. The tiny figures of people kept walking, the cars kept driving, no indication of something sinister happening. He was left alone on the roof, eyes wide and confused. "Don't panic!?" He yelled into the night. "Don't panic!? What the hell just happened!"

**Don't forget to review :-)**


	10. Chapter 10: Explanations and Forgiveness

**Explanations and Forgiveness**

Harry woke to a persistent knocking at his door. He glanced at his clock and groaned. Five in the morning. It was probably his neighbor, locked out again. He threw a loose shirt on and a pair of sleeping pants before groggily walking to the living room, flipping the light switch as he walked by. He opened the door expecting to see the old woman from Apartment B, apologizing for the inconvenience. He blinked twice before he believed his eyes. Draco Malfoy was leaning against his door frame. His heart felt like it flipped in his chest, and then the anger roared to life. He couldn't even put into words all that he wanted to say.

Draco winced, "Can I come in?"

Unsure of how much control he had over his own voice, Harry swung the door open and retreated to the living room, putting the couch, coffee table, and recliner between them for extra measure.

Draco closed the door quietly behind him and leaned into the sofa. There was an uneasy silence as Draco watched him, biting his lower lip. Finally, he tried to speak. "Harry…"

Enraged, Harry slammed his hands on the head of the chair. "Don't you 'Harry' me. You have no right."

A bit of defiance sparked across Draco's face. "You want to yell at me?" He squeezed the couch in his hands. "Go ahead. It can't be any worse than what I've been doing to myself."

"Who's fault is that!"

"Oh, mine, undeniably."

Harry grabbed the chair and threw it on its side. The crash echoed in the apartment. "Dammit Draco." Despite himself, Harry's anger was already fading. As much as he was furious at the man, he also relished seeing him again, still wanted to touch him and hold him and kiss him. He warred against those feelings, unwilling to open himself up to be hurt again. "What do you want?" He finally asked as he righted the chair.

"I want to explain."

"Explain?" Harry scoffed. "A little late for that, isn't it?"

Draco's eyes bored into him, melting pools of silver. "I hope not," he sighed softly.

Harry hesitated. For the past week he had hoped that Draco would reach out to him. As the days faded, so had Harry's hopes until he was left with a bittersweet realization that maybe he cared more for Draco than Draco cared for him. That had soured Harry's memories, clouding them so he could at least get by day to day. To have Draco here now...it filled Harry with trepidation. His self-preservation depended on his separation from Draco. And yet, his entire body rebelled against his thoughts, yearning to have Draco back in his arms. With a shuddering sigh, Harry decided not to fight against himself until he heard what Draco had to say. "Alright," he said a little gruffly, "explain then."

A bit of light came to Draco's eyes. "I...I don't even know where to start."

If he was looking for help from Harry, he wasn't going to get it. He crossed his arms and waited, expectantly.

"I...made a mistake leaving," Draco finally said, placing a hand on the sofa that stood between them.

Harry waited for more. Draco's entire body language screamed that there was more. His eyes darted from Harry's gaze to the sofa, the floor, and back to Harry. It made him feel like Draco was keeping something from him. When Draco made no more attempts to say anything, Harry dropped his arms in exasperation. "Is that all? You made a mistake?"

"Harry, please...I'm trying to make it right."

Maybe if so much hurt and anger hadn't mixed in with the desire and rush that Harry felt at seeing Draco again he _might _have noticed how desperate the taller man seemed. He _might_ have noticed the dark black bruises under Draco's eyes, or the unhealthy pallor of his skin. Harry _might _have realized that coming back, risking Harry's ire and possible rejection was so frightening to Draco that he was slightly shaking. But Harry couldn't see any of that. He couldn't see past the immediate pain in his own heart, his own fear that cried out to him: _He left you once, he can do it again._ Harry forced himself to breathe and he made his way to his front door, aware that Draco was following his every movement. It took nearly all his will power to turn the handle, but he did, opening the door and forcing himself to meet Draco's wide eyes. "I think you should go."

Draco took an unsteady step forward, hand outreached, "Harry..."

Harry had to close his eyes, had to shut out Draco's expression of pain or he'd surrender and let him stay, but he couldn't! He opened his eyes, trying to stay strong. "I can't do this right now. You can't just show up after a week and expect everything to be fine."

There were so many emotions flickering on Draco's face, but Harry refused to acknowledge them. Draco moved toward the door, toward him, pausing within inches of Harry. "I know," he whispered. He was so close, it would be so easy for Harry to reach out and touch him and pull him into an embrace, and yet Harry refrained. Draco leaned into him, so close, so close, he could almost feel Draco's lips on his, and then Draco stepped back, one lone, agonizing step and then another, until he was on the other side of the threshold. "I'm sorry," he whispered as Harry slowly closed the door.

As the latch clicked shut, Harry broke down, silently sliding to the floor. He pulled his knees to his chest and dropped his head into his hands. His lungs threatened to stop working, his heart lost its rhythm, and all Harry could think of was: _You turned him away._ The one thing Harry wanted in his life more than anything he had turned away. Why? Out of stubborn pride? Fear? Draco's eyes, desolate and yet understanding, left an after image burned into Harry's mind. All week Harry had wanted one thing: Draco to come back, to explain, to say he was sorry. He got his wish, and what did he do? He panicked, let his own hurt get in the away. He sucked in a ragged breath, letting it escape in a silent anguished sob, a realization dawning on him: this time it was him making the mistake. He scrambled to his feet and threw open the door, his own apology ready.

In the dim hall, Harry first saw nothing. His spirits began to plummet. The hole Draco left in his life was threatening to split open anew. But then Harry squinted, inspecting the shadows closer. Halfway between his door and the lift, shrouded in the early morning darkness, Harry could just make out familiar black clothes and a shock of white blond hair lying face down on the floor, not moving. He ran the few feet over, kneeling beside the prone figure. "Bloody hell. Draco?" Harry gently rolled him over. Draco groaned, but made no attempt to move. "Draco! What's the matter with you?"

"I'm fine," he said breathlessly, not opening his eyes. "Give me a minute, I'll go." He fought for each word, each breath, struggling to sit up off the floor.

Harry made a split second decision. "Like hell you are. Come on." He got to his feet and positioned Draco's arm around his neck, helping the taller man to his feet. It was harder than Harry expected. Draco was hardly better than dead weight, staggering even with Harry's help back into his apartment. Gently, he lay Draco on the couch; one of his arms dropped from the cushions, hanging at an awkward angle. Draco made no attempt to move it back. His breathing was shallow, rapid, his eyes shut tight. It frightened Harry. He'd never seen Draco look so weak or so out of it. "What's going on?" He quietly asked as he placed the wayward arm back on Draco's stomach.

"It's nothing." He whispered, "Just need to sleep it off."

Concerned, Harry sat on his coffee table, not quite hovering over Draco, but reluctant to leave him alone. "It's more than that. What is it?"

Draco gave a weak smile. "It's alright, Harry. You don't have to worry. I'll leave, just...give me a few minutes."

Harry bit his lip. He wanted Draco to stay, not only because he was obviously unwell, but because he regretted making him leave in the first place. There was more they needed to to discuss. And... because Harry had missed Draco. Turning him away now would be even stupider than when he kicked him out earlier. "About that," he leaned forward, elbows resting on knees, "I might have overreacted." Draco managed to open his eyes, watching him with barely concealed hope. "I didn't really want you to go. I was just angry."

"I deserved it," Draco answered as he closed his eyes again.

Harry noticed how wrong and drained Draco looked. He was so pale, Harry could see veins through his skin. He'd lost some weight too. His cheekbones were more pronounced. The dark circles under his eyes gave him a haunted look. Harry dared to caress Draco's cheek, using his thumb to lightly pass over the dark circles. Draco sighed, pressing into his hand. His breathing was slightly stabilizing; falling into the rhythm of sleep and Harry's heart melted. Just that one touch and Harry knew; all those feelings, all those emotions he had for Draco, they were very much still alive. They had just been hiding under a layer of anger and hurt that was quickly evaporating. Harry still wanted to know the reason for Draco's leaving, but already he was forgiving him. Harry sighed and stood. Draco reacted by furrowing his brow, but there was no further indication that he was awake. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Harry went to a linen closet and grabbed an afghan, draping it over Draco's sleeping body. Then he sat in his own chair, watching Draco sleep.

Harry wasn't sure when he fell asleep, but he was aware he was dreaming. He stood in the midst of a vast forest. Trees reached high into the canopy, stretching in all directions around him as far as he could see. Large leafed plants and shrubs covered the floor. He'd been in this place, once before in a dream. Usually the air was warm and humid, but instead of being uncomfortable it felt safe, like an embrace. The sky had been beautiful shades of greys and silvers, lightly raining on the forest, giving it life. This dream was different. The sky was covered with dark, stormy clouds. A harsh wind cut through the forest, cut through Harry. The rain turned into sleet, ice shards slicing through the leaves and branches of the forest. Ice crystals crept onto anything that was green, coating everything in a silver frost. Harry shivered, watching as his breath came out in white wisps. The cold was painful as it settled over him, biting into his toes and fingers, biting into his lungs, making it hard to inhale. He forced himself awake, afraid to stay in that frozen land.

It took Harry several seconds to realize he was in his chair in the living room and no longer in the freezing forest and not in his bed. The room was brighter now, morning proper and Draco was on the couch tossing and turning, almost violently, in his sleep. Harry got up and reached for Draco's shoulder, stunned by how cold the other man was. Harry could feel Draco's bone-chilled skin through his clothes as he gently shook him. "Draco." He continued to turn this way and that, pain contorting his pale face. "Draco, wake up." Harry leaned over and touched Draco's face, hands burning against clammy, icy cheeks. At the touch, Draco's eyes snapped opened, wide, confused, and for some reason terrified.

"Harry?" In one quick motion Draco pressed himself against Harry, face nestled in the curve between his neck and shoulder, hands clutching desperately at Harry's shirt, holding on like his life depended on it.

Draco started shaking, teeth rattling from chills, breathing becoming irregular and it suddenly dawned on Harry what was wrong. "Shit." He started using his hands to rub Draco's cold arms. "You're in backlash, aren't you?" He'd seen this once before as an Auror. A new recruit was trying to perform a spell that was too advanced for him. Though he _was _able to do the spell, he used too much energy. The spell backlashed, draining him of any energy it could to complete the magic. That recruit had spent a month at St. Mungo's recovering.

Harry wasn't sure if Draco's backlash was as severe, but he knew he needed to get him warm. The first thing to go was body heat. He rearranged Draco's position so that he lay on top of him on the couch, wrapping his arms and legs around the shivering man and pulling the afghan over them both. Harry held him, using his own body heat to warm Draco, brushing his bangs back from his eyes. "What did you do, Draco? I need to know if this is going to get worse."

Draco frowned, concentrating, "Apparated too far," he said through clenched teeth, his cold hands holding on to Harry's shirt.

"How far?"

"New York."

Harry sucked in a surprised gasp. "Merlin, Draco. I didn't know that was possible."

A particularly violent shiver went down Draco's body and he held onto Harry's arms until it passed. He was short of breath as he answered, "Me either."

"You need to go to St. Mungo's."

"No!"

"Stop moving and hold still," Harry held Draco's body tighter as he fought feebly to get up. "Stop. It was just a suggestion."

Draco relaxed, but only a little. "I hate that place," he said vehemently.

Harry stroked Draco's back until he felt the tenseness leave Draco's body. Harry took a deep breath, glancing down. "Draco, why did you risk apparating that far?"

The shivering was abating, chills were becoming less frequent. "I needed to see you," Draco whispered into Harry's chest.

The honesty was shocking and touching. "I don't think I'm worth that."

Draco pushed himself up, his arms weak and shaking, but he managed to look Harry in the eyes. "Yes you are."

Speechless, Harry touched Draco's cheek, giving a light shake of the head. "Now who's being an idiot?" Draco gave a small smile before laying back down. They stayed that way until Draco's chills seemed to stop. His body became heavier and more still, the tell tale signs of sleep. Harry touched Draco's forehead with the back of this hand, noting his body temperature had risen. "You've done a number on yourself, haven't you?" Harry whispered into Draco's hair, forgiveness in every word. Regardless of Harry's earlier sentiments, he felt his heart opening up again. Funny how just holding Draco solidified the shaky ground Harry had been walking on. A large part of Harry's mind had worried that Harry's affection for Draco was one sided, a figment of an overactive imagination fueled by very real chemistry between them. However, having Draco risk so much just to see him, it changed his perspective. If Draco didn't care, he wouldn't be in such bad condition. It oddly made Harry more confident in the other man's feelings.

Carefully, Harry rolled Draco to his side and edged out from under him. He didn't wake, and Harry repositioned the blanket over him, tucking it around his feet and shoulders. Hopefully he would stay asleep long enough for him run down to _Seven Thirty One._ In his room, he hurriedly dressed in a long sleeved shirt and jeans, grabbing his phone and wand as he came back into the living room. Draco hadn't moved. Harry watched his body rise and fall with steady breaths, hesitant to leave and yet determined as well. With one more worried gaze, he left the flat.

Usually Harry used muggle means to travel to his destinations. It was one part trying to fit in and one part not feeling like a hypocrite. He didn't want to rely on magic if he was choosing to live like a muggle. But today he threw his concerns away, apparating straight from his flat to the back alley of _Seven Thirty One. _Thankfully no one was around. Using his key he entered through the back door. Music was playing from the kitchen and Harry could smell the different aromas of the days' prep as he walked down the hall. One of his lead chefs, Eric, came out a side door, stopping as he saw Harry.

"Hey, Boss. Wondered if you were going to make it in."

Harry shook his head. "I'm not, actually. I just came by to make sure we had enough staff and everything we needed for tonight and tomorrow."

"Everything ok?"

"Just a personal matter," Harry answered, indicating that he wasn't going to say more than that.

Eric shrugged. "'Course. Well, we're good here. Oh, wait a minute." He hurried into Harry's back office and came back with a small note. "This guy keeps trying to get a hold of you. Says his name is Brian and he knows Drake." He handed the note to Harry who read the message with a frown.

"Thanks."

"Sure thing, Boss. See you in a couple of days."

The chef went back to his business and Harry reread the message. _Please call. Very important. Brian. _Followed by a long list of numbers. Harry made a few more inquiries from his staff, relieved when they said they could handle the busy weekend on their own. He also put some Mulligatawny soup into a container to take home. It smelled good and he hoped Draco would feel like eating some. After saying goodbye to his workers Harry apparated to his flat. Draco was still asleep, though he had rolled over to his other side. Harry set the soup to a slow simmer on the burner and then retreated into his room. He opened his blinds and sat on his bed, taking out Brian's note from his pocket and then dialing the long list of numbers.

The phone rang a few times before the call went through. It was a bad reception, but Harry made out a voice.

"_Hello? Hello? Can you hear me?"_

"Brian? It's Harry Potter."

"_Oh thank God. Is Drake there?"_

"Yeah, he's here." Harry didn't see any reason to deny it. He knew Brian was one of Draco's closest friends.

"_Is he ok?"_

"Uh…" Harry wasn't quite sure how to answer that. If it had been another wizard or witch all he'd have to say was the word backlash and they'd understand. With a muggle it would only lead to more questions. "He's exhausted and sleeping." He said instead. There was silence on the other end; Harry checked his phone, they were still connected. "Brian?"

"_This is going to sound insane, Harry, but I watched him vanish right before my eyes. He was just gone. And now you're telling me he's there with you, in London. It doesn't make any sense."_

Harry took a deep breath. What was Draco thinking? He knew better than to do magic in front of muggles. Then again, maybe he wasn't thinking. No one who was in their right mind would have tried to apparate from New York to London anyway. Then Harry remembered the reason Draco gave him and his anger softened. But what to tell Brian? If Draco was willing to do magic in front of him, maybe that meant he was willing to tell Brian the truth. Be damned if he was going to be the one to do it though. He thought to maybe offer some condolence. "What if I told you it wasn't insane?"

"_Then I'd say I deserve a better explanation."_

Even though Brian couldn't see it, Harry nodded. "When are you back in town?"

"_Saturday."_

"Alright. Let's meet up. Hopefully Draco will be feeling better by then and _he _can explain."

There was another pause. "_Harry...this isn't any of my business, but...I know you guys had a fight, or something, before we left for New York."_

"Or something," Harry agreed with a bit of an edge to his voice.

"_Just, Drake, he regretted it. He was miserable here, not eating, not sleeping...he's probably drunk. Maybe don't be too hard on him."_

Harry sighed and added this list to reasons wrong with Draco. "Alright Brian. Look, give me a call when you're in town, alright?"

"_Alright."_

And then Harry flipped his phone shut. The grandfather clock chimed nine as Harry came back into the kitchen. He served up two bowls of soup and brought them into the living room, setting them on the coffee table. He sat on the floor, next to Draco. This was the first time Harry actually saw Draco sleeping. He was lying on his back now, one arm over his head and the other resting on his stomach. The bruises under his lids were lighter, but still dark against the rest of his alabaster skin. His blond hair, longer than Harry had seen in years, was messily to the side of his face, and it was here that Harry let his eyes rest. Draco, he had realized not too long ago, was shockingly beautiful, but even more so when sleeping. His full lips were slightly parted and a wash of longing swept over Harry. He had missed Draco this week, maybe more than he was willing to admit; missed holding him, missed talking to him, missed kissing him, and _Merlin _missed making love to him. And, somewhere deep under all the confusing mix of emotions, Harry was still angry at him. That would have to be dealt with.

Harry pushed the anger down and away and reached forward, caressing Draco's cheek until silver blue eyes flickered open. Draco took a deep breath, resting a hand on Harry's arm, looking around until he saw Harry on the floor. Harry smiled, "How are you feeling?"

"Honest?" Draco struggled to turn toward him, wincing with each movement, "Like shit," he answered with a self deprecating smile.

"Hardly a surprise," Harry sat back, allowing his hand to rest on Draco's collarbone, clearly more exposed than it had been a week ago. "Brian called. Said you hadn't been eating or sleeping. What were you thinking?"

Harry sounded more concerned than angry and Draco shrugged, reaching to touch Harry's free hand with another wince. He intertwined his fingers with Harry's, "I don't know. There's something about you, Harry. I always end up making stupid decisions where your concerned."

Harry laughed, looking down at their hands. The contact, so simple, so small, and yet it filled Harry with contentment. He guessed Draco needed the contact as well. He had to pull it away though, ignoring Draco's slight frown. "I made some soup for you." Draco eyed the soup with interest, sitting up. Harry handed him a bowl and grabbed the other for him. They ate in silence, a heavy silence for once. Not like their usual companionable silence. There was much to be said between them and it weighed down the very air. Draco only managed to eat a small portion before placing the nearly full bowl back on the table. Harry frowned. "You need to eat more than that."

"I will," Draco replied as he lay back down. "I'm just tired." He closed his eyes.

"Draco…" Harry wasn't sure what he wanted to say. It would be so easy if he just listened to his heart. _Stay, I forgive you, stay. _But the reality was messier.

"Hmm?" Draco encouraged quietly, finding Harry's shoulder with his eyes still shut, resting his hand there.

A memory from their very first coffee meeting came back to him and Harry finally had a place where he wanted to start. "Do you remember, it seems like a long time ago, but do you remember how we agreed not to ask each other certain things about our past? How it might lead to another argument?" Draco nodded after a moment. "Well, I think we need to rethink that rule. We can't just ignore things that will make us mad."

"And what if we do fight?" Draco sounded worried and afraid, keeping his eyes shut.

Harry got on his knees and brushed Draco's hair out of his face. "Look at me." He waited until Draco opened his eyes, so full of fear and longing. "We're going to fight, we're going to have disagreements. We've changed, but not that much, Draco. You still drive me crazy sometimes." Draco smiled his half grin. "I need you to trust me and actually tell me the truth. And, I need to try to trust you again too. We can't do that if we don't talk."

Draco bit his lower lip. "Try to trust?"

"Yes, try." Harry hesitated, and then cupped Draco's face in his hand, deciding to be brutally honest with him. "You broke us, Draco. Coming back doesn't fix all of that."

Pain washed over Draco's face and he held Harry's hand closer to his cheek, once again closing his eyes. "Can I fix it?" His voice, though just a whisper, trembled.

Harry thought about what Brian had said. _He was miserable_. And thought about how depressed _he_ had been all week. And he saw how despondent Draco was now. They were completely miserable without each other. Harry thought he had just reached a place in his life where he could move on, but that didn't mean he wanted to. He wanted Draco. It took just a slight reach before Harry lightly kissed Draco on the lips, finally giving in to the desire he'd been fighting since Draco first showed up at his door. Draco responded, tentatively and Harry pulled back. "We can fix it," Harry made it sound like a promise, "but only if we're honest with each other."

"So, actually work at it?"

Harry nodded, resting his chin on his hands.

"I've never done that before. It was easier to leave." Draco's face was pensive, thinking, frowning, and then he glanced at Harry, an apologetic expression on his face. "Except, it wasn't easy to leave this time," he confessed. "Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Let's try it your way. My way was a disaster." Harry kissed Draco again, just briefly; an agreement, a promise in that kiss. Draco sighed; it became a yawn halfway through. "Can we talk later?"

"Yeah," Harry made to get up, but Draco grabbed his arm, stalling him.

"Don't go, not yet."

Harry could see the exhaustion creeping back into Draco's eyes, his voice. "You need to sleep."

"I know." He kept a weak hold on Harry's wrist. "Just, stay here until I do."

"Hang on," Harry thought of something. Next to his chair was a hardback novel Hermione gave him for Christmas. He kept meaning to read it, but never had a reason to sit still long enough. He grabbed the book and sat on the floor again, pushing the coffee table with his legs so he could use the sofa as a back rest. He felt Draco move closer, a hand resting on his shoulder and he began to read aloud:

"The Da Vinci Code, by Dan Brown." Harry read through the prologue and chapter one and then glanced behind him. Draco was asleep, his hand still on Harry's shoulder, needing the comfort even in slumber. He looked more peaceful now, the crease between his eyes was gone. Harry kissed the slender fingers on his shoulder and then carefully moved the hand so that it rested on the sofa. He dogeared the page of the book and stood, pulling the blanket up to Draco's shoulders before stepping away. Harry also felt better, a little lighter now that they'd agreed to talk and work things out. It was a promise, a start, a way back together.

As he returned Draco's soup to the larger pot, he decided to focus on the more mundane things of his life that he'd sorely neglected the past week. One being laundry. With a sigh he went into his room, sorted his clothes, grabbed the baskets and headed down to the basement where the laundry machines were. It was boring work, but necessary, and it gave Harry some space to think about Draco. Already Harry was forgiving him, nearly ready at least. There was still a small part of him that held reservations. He wanted a better explanation out of Draco. The unknown reason for his absence upset Harry more than anything. Why would Draco risk everything they had? Was he so afraid of Harry's reaction? And if so, why come back then? Harry had a partial answer for that, though Draco hadn't said it in so many words: he had missed Harry as much as Harry had missed him. Maybe more. Harry never would have dared apparating that far. That kind of devotion was overwhelming. Which brought him full circle: if Draco cared so much, why leave in the first place. The answer to this question was vital to their future.

An hour or so later Harry was back at his flat, arms full with a heavy basket of folded, clean clothes. Draco was sitting up, leaning against the armrest, knees bent. "Hey," Harry closed the door with his foot, "I thought you'd still be asleep."

"I just woke up."

Nodding, Harry took his laundry into his room and then came back. "Want to try some more soup?" Draco made a face, and Harry laughed. "You look like a wraith, you know."

"Do I?" Draco lightly touched his own cheeks, shaking his head. "Eating hasn't been high on my priority list," he admitted. Harry had already served up a smaller bowl, handing it back to Draco as he sat by Draco's feet on the couch. With a sigh, Draco tried eating again. Harry grabbed a magazine off the coffee table and made a show of flipping through the pages, though in reality he was watching Draco and making sure he ate.

Eventually Draco managed to finish the soup, though Harry noticed most of the rice was untouched. Oh well, it was something at least. Draco took a deep breath, "I suppose we should talk."

Harry put the magazine down. "If you feel up to it."

Draco was quiet, rubbing his left arm before meeting Harry's gaze. "Harry, you know what this is." It wasn't a question, but a statement. He pulled back his sleeve and held out his left arm. A faded image, nearly imperceptible against Draco's paleness, scarred the inside of his arm.

Harry tried to hide his shock, but he failed, gasping quietly as he made out the vague outline of the skull and snake. He'd never noticed it before, only now realizing how often Draco wore long sleeves. During the war he'd harbored suspicions about Draco's loyalties, but more recently he'd had second thoughts. Seeing the remnants of _that _mark gave him the chills. "You...you have the Dark Mark."

"I do." He replaced his sleeve and pulled his knees tighter to his chest. "At the time I thought I was honored. I was following in my father's footsteps. But as the war went on and the closer I had to work with Voldemort, the more I worried I made the wrong choice."

"Is that why you saved my life?"

Draco looked up, "Maybe. I don't know. I thought I hated you, Harry, but I couldn't let you go to Voldemort." A deep fear reflected in his eyes, "He would have done worse to you than just kill you." Harry said nothing, but touched Draco's barefoot with his warmer hand, garnering a small smile from Draco. "Anyway, that wasn't the beginning of my defection, but that was certainly the defining moment. I no longer believed in Voldemort, or his cause. He was obsessed with finding you, destroying you and the more you evaded him the crazier he became."

"That, and I was destroying his horcruxes."

"What?" Draco was genuinely surprised.

"Voldemort made seven, uh, eight horcruxes. Hermione, Ron and I destroyed them." Harry decided to omit that he was one of the horcruxes. No one knew that except for him and Dumbledore and it seemed prudent to keep that to himself, at least for now. He knew he was keeping a secret, but it was too confusing to explain how he survived.

"He really was insane, wasn't he?"

"Yes," Harry agreed one hundred percent.

A few moments of silence settled over them before Draco spoke again. "What happened to the Death Eaters, do you know?"

"Many of them were killed at the Battle of Hogwarts, some captured. I spent two years hunting them down myself."

"Ironic. They've been hunting _me _down for years."

"What?" It was Harry's turn to be surprised.

Draco held his arm out again, but kept his sleeve down. "I'm a blood traitor Harry, I broke my vows; the punishment is death. The first attempt on my life was when I was nineteen."

Harry heard what he was saying, believed him and yet struggled with the knowledge. It had been no secret that the Malfoy's were under Ministry protection, but Harry had never heard of any of them being under attack. "What happened?"

"I made a deal with the devil," Draco said bitterly. He was obviously not going to expand on that, and since Harry had already kept a secret himself, he didn't push Draco to elaborate. "That was when I decided to live in Muggle London. The attacks kept coming, infrequently, but at least once a year."

"Why didn't you tell the Ministry?"

"They knew." Draco's tone was colored with contempt, hatred even. "As long as I didn't kill my attackers, they didn't care what I did with _my _Death Eater problem."

"Draco, I was an Auror for nearly three years. I never heard about any of this."

"The Ministry lies, Harry. A lot. I thought you would have known that by now."

Harry nodded in agreement. He, Hermione and Ron used to plan how to make the Ministry a better place. Though he and Ron had eventually been disillusioned, Hermione still believed she could make a difference, opting to continue fighting for change from the inside.

"And that brings us back to now. That day I left," Draco didn't need to say which day, they both knew what he was talking about, "I was attacked by a Death Eater." Harry's mouth opened in shock. "I barely got away." Draco moved to the middle of the sofa, closer to Harry. "And afterwards, I wasn't worried about me. I was worried about you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you." Draco reached for one of Harry's hands, bringing it to his lips in a kiss. "I had a vision of you." He paused, holding Harry's hand tighter.

"Not a good vision." Harry guessed.

"Not a good vision."

Harry watched as a dark shadow crossed Draco's face. Using their joined hands, Harry brought Draco's fingers to his lips and returned the gesture, kissing the paler fingers. "Tell me."

Draco shook his head. "No, because that's not the point. The point is I didn't want that vision to come true. So I made a decision." That haunted look came back to his eyes and he swallowed, struggling to say more.

"If I wasn't with you, then nothing bad would happen to me?" Harry finished for Draco, who nodded. Harry sat back and thought for a moment. This whole time, this whole week, Draco had been trying to protect him. And at what cost? He was willing for Harry to hate him, willing to be miserable, willing to sacrifice all they had to keep _him_ safe. And then he thought of all that Draco was willing to do to try and fix his mistake and it filled Harry with a strong emotion, stronger than he'd ever felt. He reached forward and kissed Draco, putting all he felt behind it. Draco kissed him back, and oh Harry felt like he was whole again. He lost himself completely, arms wrapped around Draco's neck, Draco's arms holding him close. There was so much said in that kiss: apology and acceptance, forgiveness and reunion. But Harry needed more. He got his reason, he even understood it, but he needed to know that it would never happen again. He pulled away, meeting Draco's gaze, determined to make himself clear. "Draco...You...you can't do this again. You can't just leave."

He traced Harry's lips with his thumb, leaning forehead to forehead. "I can't," he agreed. "Harry," he closed his eyes and shuddered the entire length of his body, "I can't...I didn't do well without you."

There was so much pain and agony in such a simple sentence. Harry thought back to the condition Draco was in early this morning and Brian's frantic concern and warning and wondered how bad it must have been. It was plenty bad for Harry, who lacked the explanation for the separation. For Draco, who sacrificed for him, it must have been terrible. "I didn't do well without you, either," Harry confessed, hands lightly touching Draco's chest. "I can't go through that again. I won't." He paused and Draco kept quiet, sensing more to come. "So, we're back where we started, Draco. What I want hasn't changed. What do you want?"

Another time, another place, so long ago and yet so recent, Draco had hesitated when asked that question. This time, he answered within a heartbeat, reaching down and kissing Harry. "You, Harry." And then they were kissing again until the kisses weren't enough. Somehow Draco was on top of Harry, hands were roaming all over both their bodies and the rest of their conversation was done with quiet sighs and gentle touches. After a while their passions cooled and Draco settled down on Harry, head against his heart. Harry stroked Draco's hair enjoying the closeness and the peace that came from holding him.

Eventually they both became still and fell into an easy sleep; the first restful sleep either had in a long week. Harry was roused by a song playing over and over again.

Draco groaned against his chest. "What is that?"

"My mobile."

"You know it's bad news right? I'm starting to hate those things."

Harry lightly smacked Draco's arm. "You don't know that. Hand it to me will you?"

Draco stretched to the coffee table, fingers barely able to reach. He opened the phone, bringing it to his own ear despite Harry's audible objection. "You've reached Harry Potter's phone. May I take a message?"

"Give me that!" Harry hissed, but Draco was quicker, sitting up and taking the phone with him.

He was listening to the caller, nodding. "Uh huh. Uh huh."

"Draco!"

"One moment." He gave Harry a pointed look. "I told you it was bad news. Two of your stoves have gone down."

"Shit." Harry took the now offered phone. "How bad is it?" He listened as Draco stretched out across the couch, head on the opposite end, legs draped over Harry. Two of the stoves had indeed gone down. The staff had tried everything to get them going again and had even tried calling the same repairman that fixed the problem last time, but no one could find the number. Harry agreed to come in and look at them. He couldn't actually tell his staff that there _wasn't _an actual repair man. Harry had used magic last time to fix the burners. He figured he'd have to do the same again, though how he'd do it with a kitchen full of people he had no idea. He hung up the phone after promising to be there in half an hour. It was still early, only around five. One burner would hold until they started getting busy. He looked down at Draco's legs and then met Draco's gaze. "I have to go in." Draco pulled back his legs, but remained silent. "I won't be gone long." Draco just nodded. Harry got up, but instead of leaving he moved closer to Draco, kissing him unexpectedly. "Stay will you? I want to see you when I get home."

That brightened Draco's face and he flashed Harry a rare full smile. "Get out of here then."

Harry smiled and then left this flat. It was actually several hours later when he finally returned home. For some reason the evening snowballed out of control. Harry managed to get the burners fixed without anyone noticing his quick wand work, and then a waitress called out sick. She was usually one of their most dependable workers, so Harry gave her the benefit of the doubt. Then a party of twenty came in unannounced. Harry changed into a spare outfit and helped the rest of the night. The customers enjoyed it anyway. They always felt special when the head chef waited on them. The tips were plenty and the staff happy; Harry never kept his own tips, instead splitting them between the workers. By nine the rush had ended and so had the panic. Harry counted out his portion of the tips, changed back into his regular clothes and bid the workers a good night, but not before snatching some mushroom risotto. He had worked through his normal dinner and was starting to get hungry. If he was hungry, then Draco was hungry too.

It was rather dark in his flat by the time he returned. Only a stove light was on in the kitchen. And it was oddly quiet. Harry set the risotto on the counter and then flipped on a light. There was no blond haired man on the couch, nor on the rocking chair. A bit of panic threatened to overcome Harry. He hadn't had any doubt of Draco's sincerity before, but now, all the doubts came rushing back. He forced himself to calm down. Draco wouldn't do this to him again. Right? "Draco?" His voice was shaking as he started down the hall.

"Hey," Draco came out of his bedroom with a smile on his face, oblivious to Harry's inner turmoil. He was shirtless and wearing a pair of Harry's pajama bottoms, though they hung much lower on Draco than they did on him. Draco paused as he neared Harry. "You alright?" He followed Harry's gaze. "You don't mind do you?"

"No..no." Harry's brain caught up with his reality. Draco was still here and _Merlin _in his clothes. That did strange things to Harry's stomach, but he managed to motion for Draco to follow him back into the kitchen. "Sorry I'm late. It was a disaster tonight. I brought us back food though." Draco sat at the table and Harry grabbed two bowls from the cupboards. "Are you hungry?"

"I am, surprisingly."

"Good!" He served them the mushroom risotto and then sat across Draco.

"So, why was it a disaster?" Draco asked as he began to eat.

So Harry told him. Draco laughed and asked questions, obviously paying attention. Halfway through his story Harry made a startling realization, a difference between Draco and Ginny. It wasn't that Ginny never asked how his day had been, she had, she just never listened to his answer. She never really listened to him, preferring to hear what she wanted to hear. It had been a contentious point between them. And yet, here was Draco, watching him, listening to him, eating dinner with him. His absence nearly forgotten and nearly forgiven. Being together like this, just a simple dinner, it made Harry happy and for the first time in a long time he wanted this domesticity again.

The clock struck ten and Draco gave it a sour look. "One of these days Harry that clock isn't going to chime."

Harry laughed. "Don't threaten my furniture." He placed their empty bowls in the sink and turned back to Draco. He was watching Harry with half lidded eyes, full and sleepy. "Come on." Harry held out his hand. "Let's go to bed."

A flicker of shock crossed Draco's face. "I was going to sleep on the couch…"

"Do you want to?" Draco shook his head and Harry kept his hand out. "Come on then. I wouldn't be able to sleep knowing you were out here anyway." Draco took the offered hand, standing close to Harry, a question on his lips. Harry put two fingers over them, "Just to sleep, Draco." Draco stared into Harry's eyes, longer than Harry was comfortable with. It was like Draco could see right through him, could see how much desire Harry was suppressing, especially when Draco's current outfit sent Harry's imagination into overdrive. But, it was too soon. Their relationship was fragile; maybe sex, in all of its glory, had been part of their problem. They had dove in too quickly. Harry was once again at a loss how to explain his inner thoughts, but Draco's eyes softened and there was a deep understanding in them. Maybe he _could_ read Harry as well Harry could read him. He kissed Harry's silencing fingers, and made his way into the bedroom, Harry a few feet behind, pulled by an invisible tether.

They went through their nightly routines, and then both got into Harry's bed. It was slightly awkward. The last time they spent the night together had been the greatest night of Harry's life, followed by the worst day and worst week. He used his wand to turn off the lights and to close his blinds and then he tried to get comfortable. He could sense Draco, but the other man wasn't moving around as much as Harry, who couldn't find a good place to lay still. After several minutes of tossing and turning, a cool hand reached out and grabbed Harry firmly by the arm, pulling him over to the other side of the bed. "Come here," Draco said softly, sleepily. Harry did as Draco bid, resting on his side within the curves of Draco body, head supported by Draco's shoulder and chest. It was oddly perfect, like fitting the last piece in a jigsaw. Harry put one of his hands on Draco's chest and then he stopped moving. He sighed, content. He felt Draco take a deep breath. "Good night Harry."

"Goodnight, Draco." And then sleep claimed them.


	11. Chapter 11: Adjusting to New Normals

**How will Harry and Draco explain the presence of wizards to a muggle? How will Hermione react to Harry's forgiveness? All this, slash and more!**

**Adjusting to New Normals**

Harry was in the place between dreaming and reality, one foot in either realm. He was back in the forest dream, strolling through the foliage. Longer, stronger leaves managed to weather the previous storm and they seemed to reach toward Harry, softly brushing against his skin as he passed by. Some branches did not survive; the ground was littered with the dead and dying bramble. New shoots, bright, lush and green seemed to sprout up from the damage, adding a new layer of color to the landscape. A light rain fell and Harry glanced up. The sky was calm again, once again a tranquil silver. And then Harry was back in the waking world, the transition from sleeping to awake as smooth as Harry ever experienced. He was still resting on Draco, could smell him and feel him. He was following Harry's spine with his fingers, down and up, back and forth, ever so slowly. It gave Harry goosebumps, not because it was a thrill, but because of how peaceful and safe he felt, just lying there. He inhaled deeply.

Draco's hand stalled, then came to a stop on Harry's forearm. "I didn't mean to wake you," he sounded apologetic.

Harry pushed back on the bed, slightly sitting up. "You are more than welcome to wake me up that way, anytime." Draco raised his eyebrows, a sign of surprise and then he smiled. Harry touched his face. The dark circles under Draco's eyes were gone and so was the haunted look he had carried with him since arriving at his door. "You look better today. Less like death."

"That's a lovely backhanded compliment you have there." He said dryly.

With a short laugh, Harry settled back against Draco, hugging his side. By the returned squeeze he figured Draco wasn't too insulted. It wasn't long before Draco continued his pattern along Harry's back, up and down, up and down. Harry loved it, closing his eyes and just enjoying the feel of Draco's touch. Strange how Draco's touch could feel so familiar. They'd only spent that one night together (last night didn't count for Harry) and yet he _knew _Draco's touch. Would always know Draco's touch. It reached further than skin deep, straight down to his core. Those emotions frightened Harry, the strength and conviction of them. He _wanted _Draco. Always.

And that meant forgiving him and trying to forge a new relationship. They'd never done anything remotely together as a "couple". Harry even used the quotes in his thoughts. He had no idea where he and Draco stood. Were they even in a relationship? Harry remembered their quiet dinner and how much he wanted that. So, what did "couples" do? He and Ginny had rarely went out; she preferred spending time with her family. Harry didn't have family, unless he counted his Aunt and Uncle. That'd go over well. They already hated him. He could just image how purple in the face Uncle Vernon would be if Harry introduced a boyfriend. So, what else? He kissed Draco at the base of his throat. "I have a crazy idea. Well, half an idea."

"I'm listening," Draco sounded intrigued, now Harry hoped he didn't sound like an idiot.

"I know we agreed to meet with Brian sometime today, but until then, I thought, maybe we can go out and do something...together, just you and me." Harry winced inwardly at his rambling sentence.

Draco's hand stopped moving. "Like...a date?"

Harry couldn't quite read Draco's tone, but suddenly he felt foolish. "Nevermind," he said shaking his head and rolling off Draco, feet on the carpeted floor. "It was stupid."

"I didn't say that," Draco reached for Harry's hand, keeping him from walking further away. "Come here," he pulled Harry closer. "I _didn't _say that it was stupid." Harry kept looking at his feet. He felt oddly vulnerable and shy and he wasn't sure why. Draco sat up, legs dangling on the edge of the bed. He held Harry's waist, two cool hands against his skin. "What did you have in mind?"

When Draco held him like that Harry's _mind _tended not to do the thinking, but he managed an answer, letting his hands drop onto Draco's shoulders. "I don't know. A movie?"

A mischievous sparkle lit up Draco's eyes. "Sounds fun. What else." He used his thumbs to make small circles on Harry's hips, eliciting a shiver to ripple across his skin.

He had a fairly good idea that Draco was teasing him now and damn his own body to hell for reacting. "Lunch?"

"Alright." Draco started placing kisses on Harry's stomach and Harry did his best to keep his wits around him. Wasn't he just saying that he didn't want to jump straight back into sex with Draco? Yes, he had, but...not aloud. Draco stood, skin to skin to Harry, that same sparkle in his eyes."But first, I need a shower." He looked down at Harry's pajamas, neither of their pants were laying perfectly flat. Draco somehow got closer to Harry, biting gently at Harry's neck. "I need some clean clothes too. Have anything I can wear?"

"Have what?" Harry was losing the battle to maintain his senses and knew it, pressing into Draco's frame.

"Clothes? That I can borrow?"

Incredulously, Harry shook his head. "Nothing I have will fit you. You're too tall and skinny."

Draco smiled and kissed the side of Harry's mouth. "You're being an idiot. You don't think I can alter clothes?" He scoffed in fake offense, "I was going to use magic, but I could do it either way."

"Oh," Harry felt foolish. "Then, raid away, there's the closet." He pointed to a pair of sliding doors on the left side of his room.

"Shower first." Harry rolled his eyes and pointed to a closed door to the right of his bed. Draco placed a kiss on Harry's lips, his neck, his shoulder. "Brilliant." He disappeared into the bathroom, allowing Harry to admire his backside the whole way, just now becoming aware of how fast he was breathing. Water started running and Draco half emerged, leaning against the door frame, shaking his head. "It's so small, Harry! You'd never be able to anything but shower in there."

"What else would you do? You know what, don't answer that. I'm being an idiot again." Draco grinned, but wisely said nothing. Instead, he motioned with his index finger for Harry to come with him. Harry shook his head, but his damned feet didn't get the message, taking a step forward anyway. Harry thought maybe he could still leave, all he needed to do was walk the other way. And he might have been able to, had Draco not slid out of his pajamas. First one foot, then the other until he leaned on the bathroom door, completely naked and _oh so gorgeous. _He motioned for Harry once more, and this time Harry followed.

Draco was right, the shower had felt nice. Harry was toweling his hair dry on the sofa as Draco finished getting dressed and let his mind float freely to the past hour. Draco was correct when he said the shower was small, but he was wrong on one important fact: you _could _do more in there than just shower. Harry remembered the feeling of Draco's hands on him and hot kisses under steaming water. And Harry's hands were just as busy, feeling and teasing and loving. Draco made Harry feel like he was coming apart at the seems, gasping into Draco's mouth as he used his hands to bring Harry to climax. This wasn't one sided though. Harry hadn't even known what came over him, pushing Draco against the shower wall, water cascading down on them as he used his hands to return the gesture. Draco held on to him, sighing and shivering, despite the heat. Once they both found release, a different passion transpired. The quick and urgent touches became softer and gentler. The actual showering began, and even that was enjoyable. They _talked _as they bathed, something that Harry had never experienced before, even with Ginny. After all, the shower _was _small. Harry found it hard to keep his hands off Draco; the confining space made the perfect excuse for him to always have some part of their bodies touching. Eventually though, Draco glanced at his fingers and noting the wrinkles declared the end to the shower.

So now Harry had his feet propped up on his coffee table waiting for Draco to get dressed. A part of Harry had been worried that he would feel guilt or anxiety after what he had just done. He had very valid reasons not to engage in sexual activities with Draco until they had a better foundation. However, he didn't have any of those feelings. All he felt was peace and tranquility, and...sureness. There wasn't any better word for it. Harry had spent the last week on figurative shaky ground, but Draco's presence calmed everything. Harry didn't feel like he was skating the edge of a giant hole anymore. Harry may have convinced himself he needed physical space from Draco, but his body certainly didn't agree...and now his head changed its mind too. He heard low cussing from his room and he yelled down the hall, "You alright in there?"

Draco came into the living room, exasperated. "Jeans and t-shirts! Is that all you own!?" He was wearing an altered pair of Harry's dark washed jeans and a midnight blue, long sleeved buttoned shirt that he left partially opened, sleeves rolled to the elbows. His blond hair was still damp, hanging over his eyes and Harry whistled, wondering why he never looked that good in his clothes. "Stop!" Draco sounded scandalized. "I feel like a plebian."

"Thanks for that," Harry said dryly, not really taking offense. Draco had the decency to look half abashed. "It was your idea," he remind Draco with a grin.

"Yes, I know," he said sitting next to Harry. "Rub it in."

Harry threw the wet towel at Draco, who threw it over the couch with a roll of his eyes. Draco stretched out the length of the couch, socks over the armrest, head in Harry's lap. Harry lazily brushed Draco's hair back and to the side, absentmindedly styling it how Draco often wore it. "It if makes you feel any better, there's nothing _plebeian _about you. You look like a damned model."

Draco thought about it for a moment, before grinning. "That does make me feel slightly better."

"Peacock."

Once Draco laced up his shoes they headed for the door. Draco did a double take at the coat rack. "Is this mine?" He already had the grey jacket off the rung, handing Harry his brown overcoat.

"Yeah," Harry replied as he put his coat on. "You left it at the restaurant."

Recognition flickered across his face and he put it on, looking relieved. "At least I'll have _something _respectable to wear." They were walking out the door as Harry was snickering behind Draco's back.

A short time later they arrived at an older looking theater. It was smaller than the large cineplexes with only two screens. In the evenings newer movies played, but early on Saturdays and Sundays they played classics. Harry had always wanted to go to one, but had never had the time. That, and Ginny thought movies were stupid. In large black letters against the lit up marquee were the shows available. _Casablanca _was the morning matinee. Harry had never seen it, but knew it was popular. A few people were already buying tickets at the counter and walking inside. With a bright smile, Harry turned to Draco, who was eyeing the establishment with curiosity. "So? Want to go?"

He nodded, still inspecting at the other movie titles. "We could come back later if you want to watch something else." Harry offered.

"No, this is fine." He smiled as they headed to the ticket counter. "I was just reading." They bought their tickets, found a comfortable place to sit near the middle of the theater and made casual conversation as they waited for the movie to start. Draco leaned into Harry, "I've never actually been to a movie. What do you?"

"What? You've been living in London for three years? How have you not seen a movie?"

Draco looked bashful. "I don't know. A hold over from my youth, I guess." A sardonic grin crossed his face. "My father had little tolerance for what he saw as a 'weak substitute' for magic."

Harry laughed at Draco's pitch perfect imitation. "I can believe that." Harry sighed, "I went as often as I could during the summers. It was the only time I wasn't, well, tortured, by my relatives." He was reluctant to use that word having actually been tortured once or twice under the Cruciatus Spell, but Harry realized long ago that there were many different and effective ways of torture. Not all of them required a wand. Draco lifted Harry's hand to his lips, a silent kiss; not out of pity, but out of sympathy. "Anyway, you don't _do _anything. Just watch the screen and enjoy."

"Seems a waste of time." He sounded unconvinced.

The lights started to dim and the screen came to life, starting the opening credits of the movie. Harry whispered into Draco's ear. "Give it a chance. If nothing else, _I'm _spending time with you. So it's not wasted."

Together they watched Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman battle the Axis powers of the Second World War. As the film ended and the lights came on, Harry stood, stretching his back after sitting for nearly two hours. "What did you think?"

Draco stood as well, leading the way down the aisles. He was quiet, frowning, thinking; Harry give him his time. By the time they made it outside the brief sun they had was replaced by the common drizzle. Draco reached inside his coat and pulled out a compact umbrella, opening it above their heads.

"Why did he let her go, do you think?" He finally asked.

"I don't know," Harry answered as he put his hands in his pockets. "Maybe because he knew she belonged with Laszlo."

They lapsed into silence as they walked the pavement. There was a sea of umbrellas and hooded figures, heads down, rushing to their next destinations. Rain was hardly worth mentioning for Londoners; life went on rain or shine, and in February it was mostly wet. Harry spotted a familiar cafe with a covered patio. It was near his flat and he frequently ate there, though not recently. The patio was abandoned, but since it wasn't particularly cold outside Harry had an inkling to eat there. Maybe he'd been spending too much time in doors. "Do you mind if we eat on the patio?" He asked Draco before requesting the seats. Draco closed his umbrella as they entered the cafe, shaking his head.

The patio had six or seven wrought iron tables with curved iron chairs. Red cushions made them comfortable and the cover made everything dry. A few propane heaters were lit on either side of the patio. A waitress showed Harry and Draco to a table, leaving menus and promising to return in a few minutes. Draco sat with his back against the cafe, facing out towards the city and Harry moved a chair around the table to so he could sit next to him. Harry opened his hand, a silent invitation, and it was instantly held by Draco's cooler, paler hand. They read through their menus, Draco occasionally asking a question about the food. Everything felt so normal, so ordinary, and yet so precious to Harry. He didn't know if he'd ever get tired of being in Draco's presence, for that was what made the difference.

Someone had left a newspaper on a nearby table and Harry grabbed it, intrigued by a byline: _Local Fashion Designer Scores Big in New York, pg. 12._ He flipped to the page, Draco watching on curiously. "Look, you're in the paper with Brian!" There was a small black and white picture of Brian and Draco on a catwalk.

Draco looked nervous and proud; quite a combination. "What does it say?"

Harry scanned down a few lines that talked about the history of fashion week and all the other designers. About halfway through the article he found what he was searching for and he cleared his throat dramatically. Draco rolled his eyes as Harry began to read: "'Offering both menswear and womenswear, Drake Black Designs is breathing new life into the luxury fashion world. A see-now, buy-now brand helmed by designer and creator duo Drake Black and Brian Winston, the label launches three collections a year, each of which are available to shop two weeks after their debut. With luxe shearing coats, chunky knits, casual and evening wear, DBD is bringing forth a new wave of classics for your closet.'" Harry beamed a bright smile to Draco. "This is brilliant! Congratulations!"

"Thank you." He was pleased, Harry could tell, even if he wasn't reacting how Harry would react to such a positive review. Draco was grinning though, and that sparkle was in his eyes.

That made Harry notice something odd. He went back to the picture of Draco and Brian, tracing Draco's image with his finger. There were several subtle differences between the picture and the face he knew so well. Even from a black and white image Harry could tell the blond hair was darker, the eyes darker, even the shape of Draco's face was softer, less angular. He met Draco's gaze, a question in his eyes.

"It's a bit of a glamour," Draco explained. "That," he said pointing to his picture, "is Drake Blake. It's what most of the world sees when they see a picture of me."

"It's good magic," Harry complimented. "But...I can see right through it!"

"That's only because you know me," he said softly.

Harry nodded, looking at the picture again. If he tried to trick his brain the man _did _look different than Draco; a resemblance, but enough changed that unless you were looking for Draco Malfoy you would see Drake Black. Their food arrived and after assuring the waitress they were fine, they began to eat.

"Did you know it was actually Brian's idea to start Drake Black Designs?" Draco mentioned lightly in between bites of his salad.

"Really?" Harry broke his fish into halves to cool them.

"He was my first friend here." There was a moment of introspection. "Maybe my first real friend." He met Harry's gaze, shrugged and went back to eating.

"What do you mean your first friend? You had friends at Hogwarts."

"No, I had Crabbe and Doyle."

They way he said it made Harry sad. At the time Harry always supposed Crabbe and Doyle _were _more like goons and less like friends, but for Draco to also see the distinction didn't make Harry feel any better.

"I seem to remember asking _you _to be my friend," Draco continued with an amused half smile. There wasn't any bitterness in his tone, just a bit of odd humor that Harry was starting to understand. "And then you had to go and choose Weasley."

Harry laughed. "I'm sorry, but you really were such a tosser!"

Draco lightly pinched Harry's leg under the table; it was more affectionate than retribution, and he was laughing as well. "Oh the indignation that caused my poor eleven year old self."

They continued eating. The waitress came with the tab as they were approaching the end of the meal when a random thought came into Harry's mind. "Did you know…nevermind." Harry was suddenly shy about his near reveal, stuffing a still steaming fish piece in his mouth, covering his mouth and blowing into his hand when he realized it was too hot.

"Idiot!" Draco poured him a glass of water from a pitcher. "Now I want to know though." Harry shook his head. "You have to tell me after such a spectacle!"

Harry swallowed and sighed. "Alright...but, honestly Draco, I've never even told this to Hermione or Ron." Draco looked entirely too intrigued, but he made a show of crossing his heart. Harry briefly wondered where he picked up that expression, and then decided he was just stalling. "Our first year at school," he looked down and then back up at Draco's curious and always beautiful face, "I was supposed to be sorted into Slytherin, but I asked to go into Gryffindor."

Draco was silent, sitting back, an expression unreadable. "I wonder if that would have changed anything?" He asked eventually.

"I don't know. I was just trying to stay away from you, if you want the real truth."

"Me? That's a little more hurtful." Draco turned his face away slightly and Harry's knee was suddenly missing the weight of Draco's hand.

"I'm sorry, but let me explain, because that was then," he took Draco's hand and put it back on his knee, holding it in place in case Draco tried to pull away again, "and this is now." Harry waited until Draco met his eyes and then took a deep breath. "I don't know if you and I had _any _real chance at being friends in school. I wonder if we were too much alike to appreciate it. But now," he squeezed Draco's hand, "I _can _appreciate it." He paused, wondering if he was sure about his next words. It would be the closest he'd ever come to expressing his true feelings for Draco and it frightened Harry. But on the other hand, just being with him today, like a normal person and wanting that so much gave Harry a bit of courage. He looked Draco straight in the eyes, those fathomless deep silver pools and met them unflinching. "I love being with you, like this." Harry bit his lip. "And, I think I want it to be that way for a long time." Then Harry was being kissed, deeply and sweetly. Cool hands were on his face and Harry felt that familiar feeling of being completely lost in Draco's embrace. And then a strange disconnect happened. Harry knew he was in London with Draco and yet he also saw that same green landscape. This time an endless meadow of grass stretched before him; a warm white light bathed the ground, and then he was back with Draco, who pulled away, blinking as if trying to reorient himself. "You saw that, didn't you?" Harry was touching his cheek as Draco nodded. "What is that? I've seen that before."

Draco's gaze was far away, staring in the distance, but not seeing the people between him and whatever he was searching for. Eventually he turned back into Harry's hand and kissed the palm. "I don't know, but let's get out of here. I'm sure Brian will be calling soon."

Harry scrutinized Draco's confused and distracted eyes. He had a feeling Draco _did _know what that vision meant, or at least had an inkling. But, he decided not to push it, having faith that Draco would tell him eventually. He stood as Draco stood, paying the tab. Shoulder to shoulder under a black umbrella they made their way back to Harry's flat.

Harry took his coat off and sat on his couch, tossing his mobile on the coffee table and propping his feet up. After taking his coat and shoes off by the door and glancing around between the couch and the rocking chair, Draco settled on the couch, resuming his previous position on Harry's lap, looking up. "I suppose we wait now."

"I suppose we do."

Draco snuck a cool hand under Harry's shirt, letting it rest against his stomach. There wasn't anything sexual about the touch, it was just a quirk of Draco's that Harry was more than delighted to indulge; Draco never seemed to go long without wanting to physically touch Harry's skin. After a few moments of silence, comfortable, but still silence, Harry picked up _The Da Vinci Code _and began reading again.

It was a pleasant image, he decided, he and Draco like this, reading a book together, and realized that he was also more relaxed than he had been in ages. For once, there didn't seem to be anything hanging over his head, no drama, no worries, unless you counted the situation with Brian. And, then there was Draco, eyes half lidded listening to him read, his expression so open and honest. Harry was just Harry, and Draco was just Draco. He took a pause at the end of the chapter and ran his fingers through Draco's hair.

Draco reached for his hand and kissed his palm briefly. "Did you know Da Vinci was a squib?"

"What? How do you know that?"

"I read too, you know," He answered with a smirk. "The Da Vinci's are a pure blooded family in Italy. When Leonardo turned out to be a squib his parents gave him to some woman in the village. He was their greatest shame, even after his paintings and inventions made him famous."

"I didn't know that." Harry's phone chose that moment to ring and Harry answered it promptly. "Hello?"

"_Harry? It's Brian. We finally made it. Now, tell me what's going on."_

"How would you feel about meeting up? Do you know where Draco lives?" He and Draco had already agreed to have their meeting there. It was closer to the shop and Brian was familiar with Draco's flat (purely platonically, Draco clarified). Harry also decided to drop the Drake moniker around Brian. If he was going to learn about them, then he was going to learn about the real them.

There was a pause, "_Yeah, fine. When do you want to meet?"_

Draco motioned for the phone and Harry handed it over. "Brian? Yeah, calm down. Don't yell at me. I know. I _know_. Alright! In an hour, ok? Yes!" Harry could hear Brian's voice through the phone, but couldn't make out what he was saying. Draco looked guilty. "Alright. See you soon." He flipped the phone shut, glancing at Harry from the side. "He's less than thrilled with me."

"Apparently."

They sat in silence, but only for a moment before Draco reached out for Harry's hand. "I've made quite a mess."

"Yep."

"I don't like cleaning up my messes."

Harry laughed. Draco sounded like a petulant child. "No one does. It's just part of growing up." He kissed Draco's pouting lips.

"So, any ideas?" He asked lightly.

"For Brian?"

Draco nodded.

"I don't know. It's really more your problem, than mine, isn't it?" Harry teased.

"Don't be like that, Harry. I need you help. I've never broken the Statute before!"

Harry frowned, "What! Like I have?"

Draco grinned, "I do seem to remember the incident with you aunt."

"Alright," He pushed Draco off him, but not unkindly. This was the second time Draco held this over his head. "How did you hear about that?"

"Who else? My father." Draco's grin was a full smile now. "He was furious when Fudge didn't press charges."

"Yes, well, your father and I have our own set of problems." Harry's frown deepened, worried about Lucius Malfoy's reaction to he and Draco's relationship. Lucius was going to livid, maybe even murderously so. The last time Lucius Malfoy tried to kill him he had only freed a house-elf. What would be the reaction to him sleeping with his son?

Draco must have seen Harry's expression, reading into it. "We'll cross that bridge when we get there. Or burn it," he added returning to his previous position on Harry's lap. "Now, help me with Brian."

Harry sighed in slight annoyance, but settled back to stroking Draco's hair. "I told you, I don't know." Harry started thinking of ways around the Statute of Magical Secrecy. Obviously, some high ranking muggles, like the Prime Minister, were told of their existence, so there had to be exceptions. But Brian wasn't a high ranking muggle. Who else would be exempt? Draco's revelation that Da Vinci was a squib kept interrupting his thoughts, when Harry unexpectedly thought of his neighbor growing up, Mrs. Figg. She was a squib living in muggle London. Come to think of it, there had to be thousands of squibs living throughout Britain. Either the Statute wasn't applicable to them, or there were exceptions. "Squibs." He said without preamble.

"Squibs?" Draco's eyes widened as he caught up. He sat up, a look of admiration of his face. "Except, Brian isn't a squib."

"No, but it got me thinking. There must be some exceptions to the rules."

Draco sat against the couch, thinking. "What about Granger?"

That seemed out of the blue. "What about her. And you know it's Weasley now."

Draco waved away Harry's correction. "She's a muggle born. Her parents, they know, right? What did they need to do?"

Except for the time that Hermione altered their memories to protect them, her parents were pretty involved in Hermione's life. They were often over for dinner and Harry knew them pretty well. "That's, that's actually brilliant."

"Thank you."

"I could go ask her and we can meet up later." He got up, Draco still holding his hand. "Where...where should I meet you?"

Draco glanced up and then also stood, going into the kitchen. Harry followed him curiously, and watched as Draco scribbled a few lines on a blank piece of paper, handing it to Harry with a flourish.

"What's this?"

"It's my address...and the spells past my wards," Draco replied softly.

Harry held the paper like it was suddenly the most precious thing to him. "Really?"

"Yes, really." He approached Harry, hand on the side of Harry's neck. "Besides, I need to clean my flat. I left in a rush last time." Then he kissed Harry, lingering, enjoying each moment until he pulled back. "So, I'll see you in an hour."

Harry smiled and nodded. On a whim, he reached out and pulled Draco close to him, placing his own kiss on Draco's warm mouth. There was a strange peace to kissing Draco. Harry just felt lighter, less burdened with the world, and he could imagine kissing Draco for a very long time to come. He ended the kiss and Draco took a step back, a smoldering longing in his eyes. "If one of us doesn't go right now, I'm going to make us both late."

Harry headed for the door, caressing Draco's exposed chest as he walked by. "That's not really an incentive to leave, but I'm going anyway." Draco smirked and waved as Harry left his flat, apparating away once he saw the hall was clear.

On another whim, Harry stopped by a florist shop and bought a bouquet for Hermione. Her support and friendship the past week had meant everything to Harry. Without her to help him he would have been a spiraling downhill disaster. Still, a little of that manic, nervous energy was with him and he decided to walk the five minutes to Hermione's from the shop, flowers in hand. That small voice inside Harry's mind told him one person shouldn't be able to affect him this way, but Harry was getting good at telling that part of himself to sod off. Draco _did _affect him that way, and he affected Draco that way. He could spend the rest of his life fighting that, or he could embrace it. Harry slowed his steps as he neared the Granger residence, deep in thought. Maybe they _had_ spent most of their life fighting that attraction, but without knowing why. The situation surrounding their childhood made it extra difficult for Gryffindors to socialize with Slytherins, but Harry had only felt such strong animosity toward Draco. Well, as they say, there's a fine line between love and hate. Harry startled himself, thinking of love and Draco in the same thought. Bringing him full circle to Hermione. She had asked him if he loved Draco, but at the time Harry was too miserable to answer. Now...well, now he felt it was time for another heart to heart with Hermione, and not just about her parents.

He knocked and waited briefly as the door opened, Hermione's face lighting up as she realized it was him. "Harry! What a nice surprise." Harry handed her the flowers as she ushered him inside. "Thank you!" She kissed his cheek and strolled into the kitchen, looking for a vase for the flowers. After setting them in some water, she turned her attention to him. Hermione's kitchen was larger than Harry's; a massive wooden table took up most of the space, and Hermione mentioned for him to sit down. Several ingredients, mostly vegetables, were organized in their own little spaces on the table. She must have been getting ready to make dinner. Harry grabbed a knife and a cutting board and started cutting celery, a motion so familiar to him now that it required little thought. Hermione smiled and began peeling potatoes. "You look better. How are you feeling?"

Harry fought off the blush that threatened to color his cheeks. "I am better," he prevaricated. "This is a lot of food." He said casually as he dropped his cut celery into a bowl.

"Yeah. Both our parents are coming for dinner tonight." She passed him a bundle of peeled carrots. She noticed Harry's eyes light with interest, misreading the reason. "You're more than welcome to join us."

"Uh, thanks, but I actually have plans tonight."

"Really!? Getting back out there, Harry? Going on a date?"

Hermione was too excited for him, and it made Harry guilty. "Not quite, but that brings me to the reason of my visit." She looked at him expectantly and he cleared his voice, suddenly nervous. "Well, I was wondering, how did your parents get around the Statute of Secrecy?"

"Harry," Hermione said with a frown, "what have you done?"

He laughed despite her seriousness. "For once, it's not me. But, um, I'd still like to know."

She stared at him long and hard, potato all but forgotten in her hand. Harry disliked it when Hermione looked at him this way. It was like she could reach in and read his mind, or she was calculating how to stay two steps in front of him. He thought she was going to refuse to answer at first, and then she just bit her lower lip, deciding whatever she was going to say could wait. "It was easy," she replied lightly. "There's a form, what else? I have an extra one somewhere." She wiped her hands on her apron and picked up her wand, uttering a quick _accio. _"That might take a while. I can't remember where it is."

"Thanks."

Hermione went back to peeling and Harry went back to dicing, but only for a few moments before Hermione cleared her throat. "So, what else is going on? You have that look you get when you're keeping something from me."

Harry met her gaze and then continued cutting carrots. He wasn't really sure how to tell Hermione about Draco. The first time he had this conversation everything was shiny and new. But she had seen the devastation Draco left in his wake and she didn't have the same reasonings for forgiving him like Harry did. He was in an awkward position. He finished the carrots instead, adding them to the celery just as a folded piece of paper came whizzing into the kitchen.

"Grab that will you Harry, my hands are wet."

Harry snatched the paper and with a grin opened it. It was an official form from the Ministry titled "Request for Knowledge of Magical Existence" followed by a mini questionnaire, petitioner names, and reason for request. "This is perfect, Hermione!"

"Uh huh, so now tell me why you need it."

Harry refolded the paper and placed it in his jeans, rubbing his neck. "I don't think you're going to like it," he started uneasily. "It has to do with Draco."

"Malfoy?" She dropped her potato. "What does he have to do with it?" Harry made a face and she dropped the peeler, leaning against the table "Harry, no!"

"He came back early yesterday morning and we talked it out." He stood there awkwardly, waiting for the worst to come. He wasn't disappointed.

Hermione came around the table, eyes flashing in anger. "Harry James Potter, are you insane? You can't forgive Malfoy that easily! Not after what he did to you!"

Harry thought about Draco's apology, the kisses, that hole in his life filled, and then the desire and passion he felt for the other man; crossing his arms lightly. "Actually, turns out I can." Hermione grabbed a radish and chucked it at his head. He caught it surprised. "Hey!" She threw another, this one hitting him in the shoulder. "Hermione, stop!"

"I'm just trying to knock some sense into you."

"With a radish?"

"I'd like to use a bat, but I still love you."

Harry had to let that sink in before he smiled, making the few steps to Hermione and disarming her of her next radish ammunition. He placed his hands on her shoulders, looking her in the eyes. "And I love him." There, he said it aloud.

He watched as her face processed his words, first shock and surprise and then a wary acceptance as she hugged him. "Harry, do you know what you're doing? This is Malfoy! How do you know he won't do this again. I don't want to see you hurt like that!"

"I have to trust him," Harry managed to say that without a trace of irony, though by Hermione's raised eyebrows, she caught the irony herself. He sighed, continuing to hug her. "I have to trust him, and I have to forgive him. Isn't that what you're supposed to do when you love someone?"

"Harry…"

He kissed her cheek, stepping out of the hug. "I have to go, Hermione. I promise we'll talk more."

Hermione just nodded and then shook her head, hands on her hips. "Soon, Harry." He nodded and made for the front door, closing it behind him. Hermione leaned on the table, deep in thought. Harry was an adult, he was allowed to make his own choices, but she feared for him. He was totally enraptured by Malfoy before and totally destroyed when he left. She had never seen Harry try so hard to keep himself together, not after Cho, not after Ginny, never. Maybe Harry hadn't seen it, but Hermione had: the sunken, sleepless eyes, his normal sparkling green dull and flat. His attempts to stay busy, almost frantically avoiding being still. He had been lost, and it had all been Draco Malfoy's fault. She worried Harry cared too much, worried the next time Malfoy left it might be worse. She didn't trust Malfoy like Harry, but...she trusted Harry. Sighing, she made to move to the other side of the table, freezing in place as she passed the back door.

Ron, his face red and bulging, stood still behind the screen, hand paused on the knob. By the look of anger and disgust on his expression, he had overhead everything.

Draco was glad he had some time alone in his flat; he had left it a mess. He was usually such a fastidious person, but then again, he hadn't really been himself the days leading up to New York. His flat was actually more than that; it was the penthouse suite of a renovated hotel, another surprising remnant of his mother's muggle holdings. It was expensive, but worth it. The entire floor was basically one open room, with a large kitchen that Draco rarely used (cooking wasn't his thing; he usually ordered room service) that flowed into a living space with a sleek fireplace and furniture picked out that matched Draco's modern contemporary tastes. There were a few older pieces, a marbled statue of a griffon, a black decorative table, but most of the furniture was new, including the long leather sofa and matching chairs. His bedroom and the en suite were off a small hallway. Unfortunately, Draco had left clothes and sewing tools randomly everywhere, making his normal spotless home a bit chaotic. He had opened the blinds during his cleaning, admiring the view of the city. One entire wall was windows, ceiling to floor. After cleaning up, he changed his shirt, picking out a long sleeved black sweater with blue and green argyle on the hems. Then he gathered all the rest of his clothes and put them in a bin for dry cleaning.

Once done, he sat on the sofa and waited, drumming his fingers impatiently on his knee. His thoughts drifted to Harry, and he found himself wanting to sit next to him, touch him, hold him, and not necessarily sexually, which surprised Draco. He wasn't prone to physical contact unless there was personal gratification involved, but Harry was different. Harry's presence calmed him, centered him. He gravitated toward Harry, and it was hard to stop himself from reaching for him, if _only_ for the physical contact, which was completely baffling. Though Harry didn't seem to mind, it was a curious development for someone who spent the majority of their life keeping people at arm's reach. Harry just managed to strip that away.

Draco's magical senses, tied to his wards, tingled a few moments before two arms, tanner than his, wrapped around him from behind the couch. Draco sighed into the embrace, blindly reaching behind him and caressing the face he knew would be there. Harry tightened his hold and then let go, coming around to face him.

"I'd forgotten how beautiful it is here," he said, eyes roaming the room.

Draco was content to let his eyes roam over Harry, and when their eyes met that same electricity coursed through them again. Harry hesitated before moving closer, touching Draco's cheek, brushing his fingers through his hair; Draco closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth of Harry's hands. He was always so much warmer than Draco. And then Harry kissed him. Draco felt something different in this kiss, returning it gladly without needing to know its meaning. With a contented sigh, Harry ended the kiss and sat next to Draco, accepting the hand that Draco held out, interlacing their fingers.

"You were right about asking Hermione," he grabbed a paper out of his pocket and handed it to Draco.

He read it, a smile spreading on his face. "This is perfect."

Harry nodded. "I told her about this," he said lifting their joined hands.

Draco dared to look hopeful. He didn't particularly care if a muggle born witch approved of him, but Harry did apparently, and that made it important to Draco. "And?"

"She threw food at me."

"What?" Draco couldn't help but laugh. That seemed so childish and unexpected.

Harry also laughed. "She wanted it to be a bat."

Draco continued to laugh, but a little nervously. "That makes more sense." He brought Harry's hand to his lips, kissing his fingers. "So?"

"So, we'll see. She's angry, at both of us." The doorbell to Draco's flat rang, and Harry squeezed his hand. "We'll talk later. One thing at a time."

They stood, warily looking at the door. "Ready for this?" Draco asked as he moved to the door. Harry leaned against the sofa, shrugging, uncertain. It mimicked how Draco felt on the inside. With a deep breath, Draco opened the door. He was nearly knocked back by Brian's embrace. Surprised, Draco returned the hug, closing the door with his fingertips.

Brian pulled back. The older man's black hair was messy, his clothes were wrinkled; Draco had never seen him look so disheveled. "Dammit, Drake, but you scared the shit out of me!" He walked into the room. "Harry," he nodded casually before making his way to the wet bar. "I need a drink."

"Help yourself." Draco came to stand by Harry, slightly amused.

Brian had already poured himself a double, sitting on a nearby barstool. "Alright." He turned toward the two men, drink in hand. "I'm ready. What the hell is going on?"

Draco spared a glance at Harry and then pulled out his wand from his back pocket. Though not his original wand, that had been lost in the war, this new one had served him well. Brian watched his movements closely. "First, this isn't a _stick_," Draco began, using Brian's words. "It's a wand."

"A wand…" Brian echoed. He furrowed his brows. "Like a magic wand?"

"Exactly like a magic wand." Draco watched as Brian looked toward Harry for any indication that this was a joke. Harry remained quiet, but gave a slight nod of the head.

A nervous laugh escaped Brian and he swallowed some alcohol in a large gulp, pouring himself another. "That makes you what? A sorcerer?"

"A wizard," Draco corrected. Sorcerer was such an old fashioned term.

Brian took another drink, gesturing toward Harry. "He put you up to this?"

Draco smirked. "Harry's a wizard too."

Harry pulled out his wand, displaying it with a sympathetic smile. "It's a lot to take in, I know." Brain jumped off the barstool, knocking it over as he backed up, eyes wide. "Calm down, Brian. We'll explain."

"No, this...this...this is brilliant!"

Draco exchanged a surprised look with Harry. This wasn't the reaction he was expecting. "Yeah?"

"Yes." Brian laughed, and Draco wasn't quite sure if it was wholly sane, or just past relief. "Either there was some crazy explanation for your disappearance, or I was going crazy. But it's not me, it's you!"

"That doesn't make it less true," Harry added with a concerned look.

"No, but it makes perfect sense." Brian was still laughing; he took another drink. "I remember when I first met you! You were so clueless!"

Draco made an indignant face, and then laughed as well, coming to sit next across from his friend. "I had no idea what I was doing."

Harry came over as well. "This sounds interesting."

That opened the floodgates. Draco was unable to stop Brian from the regaling of his first awkward year in muggle London. Though he had told Harry some of this before, it was embarrassing to hear it from a different point of view. He sat through it with good grace, even if it didn't put him in the best light. But how was he supposed to have known what a sewing machine was, or a bobbin, or any of the terminology. Draco had basically showed up at Brian's door, asking for help mending some clothes. Their friendship had grown from there. The hours passed, the city was ribbon of light on the darkened river.

Harry made his way into his kitchen and opened the refrigerator. The mock horror was evident on his face. "Draco! Where's your food! You have...ugh, old milk, that's it." He poured the milk in the drain with disdain.

"In my defense, I have been gone for a week."

Brian made a raspberry noise. "Don't listen to him, Harry. It always looks like that."

Shaking his head, Harry returned to the table. "I'm getting hungry. I'll go get some stuff and make dinner." Draco nodded and Harry disapparated in front of them. Brian jerked nearly out of his chair.

"That's going to take some getting used to." He settled back in. "So, Draco is your real name? Draco Black?" Brian prompted curiously.

"Draco Malfoy." Draco let his name slip off his tongue. It had been a long time since he had said his given name aloud. And now that Brian knew, it could lead to trouble. After all, he still had an unknown attacker out there. Being in New York might have provided him some relief, but he was in London again, and would be for the next week. The wizard could attack at any time. "Do me a favor, though. Don't go around using that name. With Malfoy...well, you're more likely to make enemies rather than friends."

Harry apparated back in the flat, stalling Brian's response. He had a large bag of groceries in both hands, setting them down on the table with a grin. "Alright, gentlemen. Seared Cornish pollock on a bed of Portobello mushrooms, or fillet of beef with porcini pearà and autumn greens."

They settled on the Cornish Pollock. Draco sat back and watched Harry in the kitchen. He'd seen him organize that tasting party, but it was his first time really seeing him in the kitchen. It was fascinating, a bit of a dance between Harry and the food. And, it allowed him stare at Harry's ass, which was always enjoyable. Harry was so adept in the kitchen, it really was impressive. Harry was impressive. And his. A strange feeling overcame him. Harry was his, and he was Harry's and at that moment Draco felt utterly and totally whole. He didn't need anything else in his life. Just Harry. It ignited a passion in him that he quelled pretty quickly, but not before imagining Harry in his kitchen without clothes on.

"Harry," Brian's voice cut into Draco's imagination. "That smells amazing."

"Thank you." He smiled as he placed the food on three plates, carefully arranging it like the professional he was.

"Drake mentioned you were in the food industry, but I can't remember what he told me."

Harry carried over the plates, and set them down before settling to the right of Draco. "I own the restaurant _Seven Thirty One_."

They ate in a companionable silence. Draco couldn't remember the last time he had a home cooked meal, or really any meal. He had that soup earlier in the day and that was all. There was something homey about it all, something that Draco was just starting to appreciate. His closest friend was sitting across from him, lightly carrying a conversation with Harry, about what, Draco wasn't paying attention. Instead, he was stealing glances at the man next to him, coming to a realization: Harry's presence in his life changed everything. For the first time Draco wanted this domestic scene. He wanted to wake up next to Harry and have breakfast and coffee, something he'd never done with any lover. He wanted to sleep with him, hold him, make love to him, just _love_ him in every way. These feelings should have filled Draco with dread; he always swore against such trappings, but it wasn't a trap with Harry. It was just an undeniable fact. Draco Malfoy was in love with Harry Potter. The universe was a funny son of a bitch. He'd managed to eat about half his food, setting down his fork.

"You alright?" Harry asked quietly so that only he could hear him. Draco nodded, resting his hand on Harry's leg under the table.

Brian sighed loudly. "You know, it's not fair. You two are both handsome young men, successful in your fields...you're like the queer poster children for London."

Draco laughed at Harry's expression, half amused half insulted. "Uh, thank you?" Harry finally managed.

"No, thank you." Brian folded his napkin next to his plate, sitting back. "I haven't had such good food or conversation in a while. Drake... well, Drake has been a pain in the arse lately."

Draco tried to look contrite, but before he could say anything Harry gave an exaggerated sigh. "Draco has always been a pain in the arse." There was a playful grin on Harry's face as he began clearing the table.

Brian laughed, helping Harry by taking his own plate to the sink. "Well, I'd hate to eat and run, but it's getting late. Where is that form I need to fill out?" Draco handed it to him and conjured a pen. Brian bent over the table, a slight shake to his head. "Magic. Incredible." He finished it and handed it back to Draco. "That all?"

"Knowing, the Ministry, no. But I'll have the request come from Harry. That'll help speed things along."

"Why?"

"That's another story for another day. Just," Draco glanced at Harry busy in the kitchen and thought of his safety and privacy, "maybe downplay Harry's name as well."

Brian met Draco's stare, a slight frown on his face. "There's more to you guys than being just wizards, isn't there?"

"Yes," Draco answered honestly, "but you're probably safer not knowing more than that."

"Are _you _in danger?"

Draco sighed, "Brian, honestly, the less you know the better." He began walking him toward the door. "Remember, you have to keep this a secret. Not a word to anyone."

"Who would I tell that would believe me anyway? Goodnight Harry, thank you for dinner," he said a little louder. Harry smiled and waved, hands covered in suds. Brian gave Draco a stern, almost fatherly look. "Don't mess up this time. I like Harry."

Draco laughed, mock pushing Brian out of his door, "I do too. Goodnight and I'll see you tomorrow." He closed the door and then listened to the sound of silence, relieved. His attention then fixed on the figure of a certain man standing in his kitchen. The desire that Draco had been suppressing all day came back. For a week now he had denied his mind and body from thinking about Harry. This morning he felt like he was going to split in a million pieces if he didn't get his hands on Harry, but it was only a brief respite. He _wanted _Harry. All of him. That feeling had intensified since that kiss at the cafe. His entire body wanted, maybe even needed to be reunited with Harry. Besides, the amount of time he was willing to go without touching him had expired. He came into his kitchen and wrapped his arms around Harry from behind, underneath his busy arms, chin resting on his shoulder. He felt Harry take in a deep breath and Draco placed a small kiss on his neck, looking down at the dishes in the sink. "Why are you doing this by hand?"

Harry's hands paused in the soap and then he laughed, "Because I'm an idiot, remember?" Draco reached over and grabbed a towel, handing it to Harry before resuming his previous hold. Harry dried his hands and turned within Draco's embrace, looking up at his face. Harry cupped Draco's face with a hand, lightly caressing the space under his eye with a thumb. Draco wasn't sure what Harry saw there, but it caused him to swallow, hard. "So, um, let me get out of here and then you can get some rest," he tried pulling out of Draco's arms, but Draco held him tight. He glanced up, a question in his beautiful green eyes.

"Stay," Draco said softly but firmly. Harry paused. "Harry..." He gently touched Harry's shoulder, held his arm. Soft hair brushed against Harry's face as Draco dropped his head next to Harry's, placing small kisses on his collarbone. "Stay," his words whispered against Harry's skin. His other hand wrapped around Harry's waist, not quite pulling him closer, but holding him tightly.

He watched as Harry struggled with something inside him. There was definitely desire burning in Harry's eyes, and whether or not he knew it he had moved closer to Draco, but there was also fear, trepidation. That was completely Draco's fault. He decided then that he would do whatever he could to remove that look from Harry's eyes.

Draco took another breath, recapturing Harry's arm and slowly rubbing his skin with his fingers. "Harry," his voice was thick with emotion, "Harry…" He tried again, struggling to say what he hoped Harry could see in his eyes, and then he closed the distance between them, kissing Harry with a true abandon, unable to hold back anymore.

Quickly it deepened, Harry holding on to Draco's neck as he pressed against him, Draco's cool fingers on either side of his face, and still the kiss continued. Harry braced himself against the counter, lightly jumping up, without pulling away. One of Draco's hands found its way under Harry's shirt, low on his back, the other at his neck. The need to breathe was weighed against the need to continue this kiss, but soon Harry was forced to break away. Draco pressed slow, heavy kisses down Harry's neck. It sent fire down Harry's body, arms wrapping around Draco for balance and stability.

Draco moved back from the counter, taking Harry with him in surprise. Neither said anything, neither needed to. Draco slid his hands under Harry's shirt until it was up and over his head, discarded with a toss. He seemed satisfied with himself, a grin playing on his lips before he hooked a finger on Harry's belt loop, yanking Harry closer, closing the distance between them. Draco moved backward, and Harry followed, only in small part because Draco still had hold of his pants. Harry would have followed anyway.

The blinds were still down in Draco's room, but enough light passed through that they could see watch other in shadowing silhouettes. Draco stopped at the foot of his bed and kissed Harry again, this time with a passion, an urgency that Harry was starting to respond to. Those cool fingers roamed all over his chest, paths of fire in their wake. Harry found himself up against the bed, not knowing how that happened, or even caring. Those same hands, those same fingers, oh so nimble freed him from the rest of his clothes.

He edged back, watching as Draco stripped out of his clothing, never losing eye contact for long. He stood there, a porcelain Adonis, more perfect and more desirable than Harry had ever seen him. The silver in his eyes met his, and Draco smoothed his hands up Harry's legs, past his hips, over his chest and hovered lightly over him, kissing Harry on the mouth, teasing him with his free hand. Harry gasped, and Draco caught his mouth again, fingers pulling and pushing until Harry was painfully and pleasurably aroused. Slowly, Draco brushed his lips over Harry's lips, down his neck and collarbone. He held Harry's hands on either side of his body, pinning them to the bed and continued his torturous, unhurried examination of his body. Coherent thought had long since abandoned Harry, but the moment Draco's lips closed around his hardened member, Harry nearly came. He tried to use his hands, but with a devious glint in his eyes, Draco held them down. Draco used his mouth in such an exquisite way, Harry had never known such pleasure. Slow and fast, soft and hard, and oh Merlin that tongue. It was driving him insane. He gasped for air, "Draco…" he meant it as a warning, but it came out as an exclamation of ecstasy, matching his own release. His whole body was tingling, a melting pool of fire and desire. Draco released his hands, hovering over Harry, a tender expression on his face. It wasn't one that Harry saw often, and Harry lightly caressed his face.

"Harry…" Draco slightly lifted him up, and slid into him; Harry's body was relaxed, but his nerves flared to life as Draco went further and further, inching in until there was no space between them. Draco reached for Harry, holding him by the shoulders in an embrace, Harry's arms wrapped around his neck. Draco lowered him, moving at the same time, again and again.

Harry was lost. He wasn't sure where he was anymore. He felt Draco all around him, inside him, through him, he was surrounded until he didn't know where he ended and Draco began. Harry felt he wasn't even in the room anymore. Draco was still with him, loving him, but the world had collapsed on itself. There was only him and only Draco, on a field of emerald green grass, sky a silver blue. He felt Draco's entire body against him, felt as he was nearing his release, thrusting deep as he came, calling out and Harry called out, feeling it at the same time.

The world expanded, they were back in Draco's room and Draco, a slight sheen on his body, pushed up to meet Harry's matching expression of surprise, breathlessly laughing. "That was...intense." Draco settled on top of Harry, ear to his chest. His hands rested on Harry's biceps, lightly enclosing them in his fingers.

Harry caressed Draco's hair, the side of his face, his hair again. "Has that ever happened to you before?" He asked certain they saw and felt the same thing.

Draco shook his head, but then nodded after a moment of consideration. "But only with you."

"What does it mean?"

"I'm not sure." He kissed Harry's chest a few times before sitting up. "I feel like I should," he touched his temple, "but it's like a dream of a dream I can't remember."

Harry sat up against Draco's black headboard, bringing his knees up to his chest. "Does it bother you?"

Draco gave him a smile. "No, it doesn't." Harry responded with a smile of his own. Draco got out of bed and extended a hand to Harry. "Come on, let's take a shower and then go to sleep. It's been a long day."

A while later, after going through the necessary preparations for sleep, Draco and Harry found themselves in bed again. For once there was no sexual tension between them, or any other tension for that matter. Draco used his wand to turn off the lights, casting the room into near blackness. His bed was larger than Harry's, there was plenty of space for them to sleep without touching, but that wasn't acceptable for Draco. He was tired, not dead. He pulled Harry close to him, his back to Draco's chest, enjoying the warmth of his skin against his, enjoying the smell of him, the feel of him, the sense of security he had holding him.

Harry settled in, changing his position slightly, finding one of Draco's hands in the darkness and kissing it lightly. "Goodnight, Draco."

"Goodnight, Harry." Feeling safe, secure, and complete in so many different ways; sleep came quickly for Draco.


	12. Chapter 12: Ronald

**Ronald **

The sound of quiet talking woke Harry from a pleasant sleep. He opened his eyes, thankful the room was still mostly dark. Light came in from the open door leading into the rest of Draco's flat, where Harry could just make out two men speaking. The front door closed and Harry yawned, deciding to get up reluctantly. He had slept in his boxers, but on a nearby chair there was a black silk robe and he shrugged into it casually. The main flat was much brighter and Harry squinted against the glare. Draco was sitting on one of the large black chairs in the living room, sipping a cup of coffee and reading a newspaper section already dressed for the day in his traditional ensemble of black. There were two trays on the glass coffee table covered with stainless steel lids. The smell of coffee and food lured him closer. Draco smiled as he neared and handed him a cup of coffee, already prepared the way he liked it. "Thank you." He sat on the sofa, blinking sleepily. "What's all this?"

"Breakfast. I ordered before we went to bed last night."

"Brilliant." Draco handed him the Food and Dining section of the paper and went back to reading his own, having learned that Harry was not always the most talkative person before coffee from their many meetings in January. It was nice not having to explain his every thought and feeling. Ginny always thought he was cross with her for something if he didn't wake up bright and cheerful. It had been annoying and frustrating to always put on a happy face first thing in the morning, even if he hadn't slept well. Draco was different. He understood Harry's morning disposition without him having to explain. Oddly, it put him in a better mood.

He read a few reviews of a new casual diner and then set the paper aside, stomach grumbling. "Hungry?" he asked Draco, who nodded, folding his paper, tossing it on the table. Harry uncovered the trays exposing the sausages, porridge, fried tomatoes, and toast with marmalade. Both trays were similar, but Draco's left off the porridge and toast. They ate quietly, a comfortable companionship. Minus the change in scenery, it felt like any other breakfast with Draco. Though it didn't escape Harry that this was their first shared meal after sharing a bed. He decided to keep that point to himself, afraid it sounded too mushy. "What's on your agenda today?" He asked instead.

Draco looked up with a smile. That was an often asked question when they had breakfast together. It was Harry's way of making a statement: Nothing really had changed. They were still the same two guys eating breakfast and having coffee together (overlooking that Harry was in a borrowed robe only in his boxers underneath). Some things had drastically changed, but the underlying foundation of their friendship remained. Draco took a sip of coffee. "I have to make some alterations to a few gowns. They didn't work quite as well as I had hoped on the runway."

"When does that need to be done?"

"By next week." Draco sighed. "It's my own fault. I was neglectful."

"So was I," Harry admitted to Draco surprised expression. "I have no idea where we stand on Valentine's Day preparations."

"Valentine's Day?"

"Yes, Valentine's Day. This Saturday, only the busiest day for restaurants across the country."

Draco scowled at him in, but with a grin. "I know what Valentine's Day is, idiot." Shit. He had no idea what Valentine's Day was. "I just lost track of time." He finished his light breakfast and stood, kissing Harry briefly. "Speaking of which, I need to go. Call me later?"

"Of course." Then Harry looked around. "Have you seen my mobile?"

Draco shook his head, pausing at the door. "Need help looking?"

Harry waved him away. "It's probably back at my flat. I need to go home for clothes anyway."

"Not that you don't look amazing in my robe." Draco teased, grinning as Harry blushed. "See you later!" He closed the door, leaving Harry alone to finish his meal.

Harry returned to his own flat not long after and quickly dressed. In the bathroom he saw his reflection and lifted the fringe from his forehead to see his ever present, if not ever visible scar. For some reason it brought back a conversation he and Draco had about Death Eaters. Harry had always wanted to investigate Draco's claims that the Ministry knew about his attackers and did nothing. Not because he didn't believe Draco, he did; he just wanted the other point of view as well. He also figured he should stop by _Seven Thirty One._ His poor restaurant must feel neglected. After some searching he found his mobile stuck between two couch cushions, completely empty. Slightly irritated at himself he plugged it into the charger and decided he'd have to come back for it later. Besides, muggle electronics didn't always do the greatest near magic. It sometimes caused them to short out, Harry wasn't sure why. Maybe one day he'd ask Arthur if he had a theory. Harry straightened his flat a little and then headed out to the nearest Ministry entrance.

Harry decided to wear a glamour into the main hall of the Ministry this time to avoid the unwanted attention he garnered before. He made his way to the Atrium unnoticed, just another middle aged wizard with glasses and a forgettable face. Many things had changed in the Ministry after Voldemort's defeat, but the Auror's main focus remained the same: Hunt down and detain Death Eaters. Harry used one of the lift devices and headed toward Level 2 of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, headquarters of the Aurors and Harry's old job. With a small wave, he vanished the glamour as he landed on the floor.

Not much had changed in the three years since he left. The floor was still a mess of cubicles, but several desks were empty; devoid of personal items and files. The whole floor seemed quieter. Many Aurors had lost their lives in the final battles of the Second Wizard War and their ranks had never fully been replenished. Voldemort and Death Eaters had been the Aurors main objections. With Voldemort permanent defeat, and Death Eaters mostly dead or captured, many in the Ministry thought the Aurors an outdated and antiquated idea. At least while Harry had been involved they still got funding; by the looks of the place that had long since dried up. Harry made his way toward the back, where the more senior Aurors tended to have their desks. He turned a corner and recognized a voice.

Auror Maximus Cooke was joking with a younger Auror, reading from a newspaper. His scars, from a particular nasty spell cast at him during a duel with a Death Eater, had faded some with the years, but were still very much evident. Harry came closer and the Auror glanced over his newspaper, all smiles when he recognized Harry.

Cooke lowered the paper and embraced Harry, "The prodigal wizard returns!" He pat Harry's back, grinning. "Finally decide to come back to work?" Cooke was a large man, easily towering over Harry and dwarfing him in bulk.

Harry returned the embrace, shaking his head in the negative.

"Harry!" Cooke hit him weakly with the paper, "You're wasting all your potential! And living like a muggle!" His face was scrunched up in horror.

"Well, I've had practice," Harry said automatically. It was his go to response when witches and wizards disparaged his living choice.

"A waste, I tell you." Cooke nudged the younger Auror. "Harry was the most talented Auror in centuries! A natural!"

The younger Auror looked confused, "Why did you leave then?"

There was an awkward silence. Harry rarely spoke about his decision to leave the Aurors. Cooke saved him from answering. "This job...you've only been here for a month or so. It can take its toll." He rubbed his face, tracing the scars that whipped across his face, five long and skinny streaks from his left eye to his chin. He seemed to snap himself out of thoughts, smiling at Harry again. "Which begs the question: what is Harry Potter doing at Auror Headquarters?"

Harry leaned against a cubical, trying to be casual. The wall wobbled and he quickly straightened up, attempt blown. "Well, I had a favor to ask, actually."

"Hmm, a favor for Harry Potter." Cooke lifted an eyebrow. The younger Auror looked in awe.

"Yeah," Harry rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. He hated trading on his name for anything. "I want the files on Draco Malfoy."

The younger Auror jumped up, eager to please, "Sure-"

Cooke cut him off in a sharp gesture. "That's official business, Harry, sorry. Most of his file was sealed anyway."

Determined not to persuaded, Harry tried again. "I'd like to see what I can." When Cooke remained silent Harry became a little more crafty with his persuasion. "Look, I could always go above your head and ask Kingsley, " Cooke's eyes narrowed at such familiar usage of the Minister of Magic's name, "However," Harry continued trying to keep his voice neutral and sincere, "I'm sure that won't be necessary. I just want to read the file."

No one moved, except the wide eyed Auror glancing rapidly between Harry and Cooke. Cooke continued to stare Harry down, being older, being larger, but Harry was hardly intimidated. Defeating the world's most evil wizard before you turned eighteen tended to change your perspective. He crossed his arms, and waited and wondered what the big deal was. He had worked with Cooke for years, never closely, but never saw him as being such a stickler for rules. It made him want to get his hands on the file even more. He was about to speak, when Cooke finally moved, pushing off his cubicle.

"Sure, Harry." There didn't seem to be any sign he was upset. "Give me a minute. Auror Tin, a hand, if you will." He turned with the Auror into a back room, without sparing Harry a second thought. Harry took a deep breath and waited. It only took a few minutes before Cooke came out with a thin looking manila folder. The younger Auror did not return with him. He handed the file over to Harry. "There you go. Just remember, it has to stay in the office."

"Thanks."

Cooke gave a short salute. "See you later, Harry."

Harry watched him leave the floor before inspecting the file. On the cover was Draco's name written incursive. Cooke had a unique way of writing his D's, it looked more like a backward G. The file was thinner than Harry would have thought. He opened it and was immediately angry. More than half the file looked like it had been hastily removed. Even the typical cover sheet with the most basic of information, birth date, location, parentage, description, it was gone, replaced with a generic page that only had the words D. Malfoy typed in bold at the top. Harry flipped through the file. Several facts from Draco's childhood had been redacted, heavily crossed out so that unless you knew him you would be unable to gather any information on his past. Alright, Harry conceded, this might have been part of the bargain when the Malfoy's turned sides, but it still didn't settle well with him.

There _was_ one single page that Harry found the most interesting. It had been folded several times and tucked in between pages. A small four by three table was drawn crudely on the upper half. There were four names written hastily in sloppy cursive in the first column, a date, a location, and lastly status. Harry recognized one of the names as a known Death Eater. Harry looked at the first date and location a little closer and did the math. It matched up with what Draco had told him. The first attack on him came when he was nineteen. His eyes widened when he saw _Deceased _next to the status on that line. The other names all had _Memory Altered _next to their statuses. One name, not in the table had been crossed out so violently that Harry was unable to read it. At the bottom of the page written again in the sloppy script were more words: No further investigation. It didn't make sense. Harry flipped the page over, expecting more, even double checking the folder again. This had to be some of the sloppiest work he'd ever seen.

No one was currently investigating these Death Eaters because their memories had been altered? What if the spell had been reversed? Add on top that this was not what a normal Auror report looked like. What in the world was going on? Curious, he glanced around wondering once again where all the Aurors were. He imagined they could be out on assignment, but doing what? Either way, the solitude afforded him an opportunity. Double checking he was still alone, he copied the list of names on a scratch piece of paper, put the page back in the folder and placed it on Cooke's desk. He followed the hall to a larger gathering spot where Cooke was drinking from an oversized mug.

"Thanks again," Harry said with a wave.

"Find what you were after?"

"Uh, yeah. Thanks. You were right."

"Not sure why would be looking into a Malfoy anyway," Cooke said as he raised his mug. "Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater." He laughed and drained his glass, giving Harry time to school his expression into indifference. He very much wanted to defend Draco, but knew this was not the time or the place. Instead, he stayed quiet. Cooke sat his drink down and gestured around him. "Anytime you're ready to come back, Harry, we'll be here."

Harry nodded, gave a small wave, and backed out of the hall and headed for the lift, a crazy idea in his head. While Level 2 housed the main Auror offices, Level 3 housed the various research materials used to aid them. He got out to another empty hall, pausing at a door with gold letters "Auror Research Facility". Unlike the door to Gryffindor Tower, this door was magicked to only allow Aurors in. On a whim, Harry doubted they removed his clearance. He stood squarely in front of the door. "I am Harry Potter." The door opened without a sound and Harry entered, closely the door behind him. Lights flickered on, illuminating a room that looked several times too large for the walls holding it in. Harry believed it worked like Hermione's Extension Charm on her bag, except modified to hold rows and rows and rows of books, records, tomes, and files. In the middle of the room, in two straight rows were tables for Aurors to work from, though, like the offices, it too was empty. Harry hurried to a table and started to cast _accio_ based on the names from the list. Several thick folders floated to the table and Harry bit his lip. This was going to take longer than he thought. Either way, he was invested now. He started with the first name on his list:

_Jugson, first name Unknown: Participated at the battle in the Department of Mysteries and later escaped Azkaban. Status: Dead, 1999._

_Walden Macnair: Employed as an executioner for the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. Participated at the break-in at the Department of Mysteries, and later escaped Azkaban after the latter crime. Also participated at the Battle of Hogwarts. He was thrown across the room by Hagrid, leaving him unconscious. Escorted to Azkaban, where he attempted to break free. Status: Memory Altered, June 2000. No further investigation needed._

_Mulciber, first name Unknown: Specialised in the Imperius Curse. Escaped Azkaban fourteen years later to rejoin Voldemort. Participated in the break-in at the Department of Mysteries, and again escaped from Azkaban. Status: Memory Altered, August 2001. No further investigation needed._

_Augustus Rookwood: A former Unspeakable that acted as though he was aiding the anti-Voldemort cause, but was revealed as a double agent. Escaped prison fourteen years later to rejoin Voldemort. Participated in the break-in at the Department of Mysteries, and later escaped from Azkaban. Participated in the Battle of Hogwarts, his explosion was what killed Fred Weasley. Status: Memory Altered, March 2002. No further investigation needed._

Harry sat back, worried. These weren't your normal lower level Death Eaters. They were powerful, loyal, fanatics to Voldemort. Harry remembered Macnair all too well. He would have killed Buckbeak in his Third Year had he and Hermione not intervened. And Rookwood...hell, where _were_ these men. 'No further investigation needed'? Draco was right. The Ministry, at least the Aurors, knew about the attacks on his life. Worse, there was no follow up, exactly as Draco said. It made Harry uncomfortable.

With a wave of his wand, Harry sent the files back to the shelves, still deep in thought. This new information also strengthened Draco's claims. Any one of these men would love to see a Malfoy, father or son, killed for betraying Voldemort. Harry had to admit that he'd be high on their list as well. So why wasn't he told? He glanced at his watch, a normal Muggle time keeping device, and decided it was time to go. The longer he lingered, the greater chance he'd get caught and have to explain himself. For now, he would keep his findings to himself, unsure what they meant and unsure who he could trust.

He replaced his glamour and headed for the Atrium, silently amused when he passed Hermione as she spoke to a coworker. Neither lady spared him any attention. Once back to the surface he shook off the magic, pausing before he returned home.

A short time later Harry was at his flat. His mobile was fully charged and he turned it on, sitting on his couch as he waited. The phone chirped its song and lit up immediately: Mailbox full.

"Mailbox full?" That was a new one. He flipped the phone open and dialed his voicemail. The first call was from a chef at _Seven Thirty One. _He deleted that; he'd be there soon anyway. The next one was from Ron, but is sounded like it had been cut off. Another was from Ron, this time Harry got the gist of the message, paling at his friends anger. Harry listened in slight horror; somehow Ron knew about he and Draco.

One after the other, Ron had left messages all through the night. "_Malfoy! Malfoy! Harry you prat, answer your phone!" "You damned coward! Where are you? With him! Probably laughing at me. I swear Harry if you don't answer your phone right now I'm going over there." "Not home or not just not answering! You bastard! This whole time it was Malfoy we were talking about?" _

"_Harry," _this was from a worried Hermione, "_Harry, I'm sorry. Ron found out. Talk to him before he does something stupid!"_

_Next message: "Harry how could you? This is Malfoy! Death Eater, Slytherin, Bullying, Malfoy! Have you gone mad as well as queer!?"_

Ouch, that one hurt. He decided to erase the rest without listening to them. Any more of that vitriol and he was going to forget that half the reason Ron was so angry was Harry's fault. His phone rang in his hand and Harry nearly dropped it, feeling like it was personally attacking him. Hermione's number lit up on the display and Harry warily answered it, unsure if it would be Hermione or Ron. "Hello?"

"_Harry!" _Oh good, Hermione. "_Harry, I'm sorry! Ron overheard us talking last night!"_

"It's alright, Hermione." Harry had planned on telling Ron soon anyway. Though this was definitely not how he wanted it to go.

"_No it's not." _Hermione was talking fast, agitated. "_I've never seen him this upset. He didn't come home last night, Harry! And I've tried finding him. George says he's not there, so does Molly. I don't know where he is."_

Genuine panic was in her voice and Harry suddenly felt very guilty. "I'm sorry Hermione. I never should have asked you to keep this from him."

There was a pause, "_It was yours to keep, Harry. I'm just sorry he found out like this."_

Harry thought he might know where Ron would go, a place to be alone, to collect his thoughts. "I have an idea." Please let him be right. "I'll call you later." He hung up without hearing her reply, afraid he would give her too much hope in case he was wrong. He pictured the rolling green hills, the quidditch pitch, and cast the apparition spell.

The pitch came into view and Harry had just a split second to dodge the bludger hurtling straight to his head. He glanced up, Ron was on a broom hovering in the air, a beater's club in his hand. "Ron!" Harry shouted, half pleaded, "Come down and we'll talk." Years of playing quidditch gave Harry enough warning to quickly lower his head. The bludger passed him from behind, continuing towards Ron who hit it away with the club.

"Talk? Now you want to talk?" His face was dark red, eyes narrowed, mouth turned down in a frown.

"I'm sorry I didn't answer your calls! I left my phone at my place!"

Ron tossed another bludger in the air, hitting the heavy iron ball towards Harry, who moved slightly to the right to avoid it. "So you were with _him_." Ron had a unique way of strangling a pronoun. He touched down on the ground a few feet from Harry, shaking with rage. "How could you, Harry!?"

Instead of being contrite, Harry became angry at his friend. He always did this. Whatever was happening to Happy, it always became about Ron. First, the Triwizard Cup, and then their search for the Horcruxes, and now this. He balled his fist, refusing to be cowed. He knew he should let it go and try and salvage what he could, but the way he accused Harry, like Harry was purposefully trying to spite him, it made him furious. "Dammit, Ron. You know this isn't about you, right? Stop being such a prig and I'll explain."

"Me? A prig?" He came closer, batting his eyes in mock innocence. "I'm sooo sorry. Isn't that all it takes for the great Harry Potter to forgive you? Bat your eyes, spout some nonsense, and years of hatred and mistreatment are swept under the rug!" He gave Harry a disgusted look. "Or was it because he screwed you too?"

Harry took a step back, shocked and hurt. Ron also looked surprised, like maybe he hadn't meant to say all of that, but it only lasted a second, and then he crossed his arms, standing by what he said. Despite his strongest attempts, Harry's eyes were filling with tears, both out of anger and sorrow, but mostly anger. "Ron, I actually came here to say I'm sorry and to try to explain to you, but if you don't take that back right now, I'm going to break your nose."

"You can try." Ron cracked his knuckles and came after Harry first, swinging a right hook. They had both gone to Auror training together, had both practiced hand to hand combat, but this was the first time they used it against each other outside of a sparring match. Ron had more reach and more force behind his punches, but Harry was faster, blocking and weaving inside Ron's defenses delivering a punch that indeed broke Ron's nose, cartilage collapsing with a crunch. With a savage yell, Ron grabbed Harry on both sides of his waist, picked him up and slammed him on the ground. Harry managed to block one kick, but the other got him in the ribs, knocking the air out of him in a painful rush. Harry recovered and swept Ron's feet from under him, getting ready to launch another attack when two figures apparated in the pitch. George grabbed Ron, holding his arms behind his back as he struggled, and Hermione pushed Harry back, hands on his chest.

"That's enough!" She shouted at them both. Ron had blood dripping out of a misshapen nostril, breathing hard through his mouth. Harry was also breathing hard, glaring at the restrained redhead, hand on his right side. That kick was going to leave a nasty bruise.

Ron seemed to calm down enough that George released him. The older man decided to stand between them, clearly not trusting them. "What is the matter with you two!"

Ron shook his head still too angry to speak.

"It's my fault," Harry said through gasps. "I should have told you about Draco." He tried catching Ron's eyes, but he was glaring at the ground. "I'm sorry." He ignored George's curious and wide eyed face. "But what I told you is still the truth! He means everything to me, but so does your friendship. Don't make me choose."

"Bollocks, Harry." Ron wiped the runny blood on his sleeve. "I just don't see how you can forgive him so easily!"

Harry took a deep breath, taking a step toward Ron. "Because that's what you do when you love someone!" Was he the only one who believed this!? It was oddly quiet on the pitch after his outburst. The flags on the top row of the spectator seats could be heard flapping in the breeze and some rooster had his time off, crowing even though the sun had been up for hours. And then there were four persons, three standing very still staring at Harry. "I'm sorry it's not what you want to hear." He ended as genuinely as he could.

For a moment Harry thought he got through to his oldest friend, thought he saw a relaxing of tension and softening of expression, but then Ron just kept shaking his head. "I'm sorry Harry, but I don't understand this." With a glance of apology to Hermione, Ron disapparated.

"Ronald!" Hermione shouted at the empty space. She turned to Harry, silently asking that he understand: She had to go after him. He gave a wordless nod and she also disapparated.

Then there were two. George was picking up the quidditch equipment, giving Harry a curious glance out of the side of his eye. "So, Draco Malfoy? And you?" He made a kissing motion with his lips and then fake gagged. "Sorry." Harry sighed and tossed George the quaffle. "I mean, I don't care, don't get me wrong," he continued latching the balls into the chest, "I just can see where Ron is coming from."

"I know," Harry replied with another sigh, putting pressure against his sore side.

"Do you though?" George stood, towering over Harry. "Ron has been tormented by Malfoy his entire life. If it wasn't the red hair it was the hand me down clothes, if it wasn't being poor it was having enough siblings to repopulate a small island. Malfoy has always been a prat to him. But you, you were his friend. You chose him over Malfoy, maybe the first time anyone ever had."

"He's still my friend. My feelings for Draco and my friendship for Ron shouldn't be mutually exclusive!"

"Yeah," George put a sympathetic hand on Harry's shoulder. "But they might be."

Harry was glad for the organized chaos of _Seven Thirty One. _He was also very glad he came in; several of his shift managers were trying their best to keep from panicking. Valentine's Day was six days away and they felt woefully underprepared. He calmly listened to their worries and their inventory counts, taking notes. This, at least, was something in his life that he could control. To many relieved faces Harry said he'd handle it, and, to more relief, actually went into his side office with the list.

He worked at a computer for the rest of the afternoon, pretty impressed with himself. He had made orders and schedules for the week. Yes, it was a bit of a distraction, but this restaurant was important to him. It was a bit of normalcy in his suddenly crazy life. Draco _had _tried to warn him. Being together was proving to cause more drama than Harry would have liked, but he refused to second guess his decisions. So, he concentrated on his work, both because it was helpful and because it was his responsibility. He was finishing up the design for the Valentine Day's menu when his mobile rang. It was once again Hermione's number and Harry answered. "Hello?"

"_Harry, I'm sorry." _Hermione sounded tired and slightly stuffy like she had been crying. "_Ron thinks...I'm sorry. Maybe don't come around for a while, k?"_

"Hermione?"

"_Harry, I can't get caught in the middle of this! This isn't like school. Ron is my husband!"_

"Oh." The importance of her call started to set in. Not only was he going to lose Ron, but he was going to lose Hermione as well. He swallowed the hurt, clearing his throat. "Yeah, of course. I understand Hermione."

"_Harry," _she sounded miserable and Harry felt sorry for her. She was in between a rock and a hard place and it was all his fault.

"Hermione, it'll be alright, you'll see." He didn't believe that. He didn't know if everything would be alright. His heart ached, thinking this might be the last time he spoke to Hermione for a long time. He didn't want to leave her worried. "Don't worry about me."

She was quiet, the slight sniffle the only hint she was still on the line. "_Alright, Harry. I better go." _

"Goodbye, Hermione."

"_Goodbye, Harry."_

Harry let his phone fall out of his fingers and then he put his face in his hands. What a damned mess. Draco warned him. More than once. Being in a relationship with another man would probably have had its own problems, but being that it was Draco Malfoy compounded it. And yet Harry couldn't see going backward now. His future, his compass, it was solidly aligned with Draco. _That _felt right, _that _was where he wanted to be. He hadn't known it meant leaving his closest friends in the past. He never would have imagined that. Maybe he was being selfish. Maybe wanting Ron, Hermione and Draco to all get along, just for him, was too much. He unexpectedly wanted to talk to Draco. He wanted to feel his arms around him, wanted his support. He reached for his mobile and dialed.

Draco stared at his new mobile, frowning in concern as he slowly flipped it shut.

"Who was that? Harry?" Brian was flattening fashion paper on an under lit table, the matching dress for the design next to it.

"Yeah." Draco continued to frown as he helped Brian, using paper weights to hold down the top two corners that kept trying to curl back on themselves.

"Everything alright?"

"Hmm? Yeah, yeah." Draco studied the drawing, picking up the problem dress.

"Sure?" Brian asked once more.

"Yeah, now help me with this." Draco focused on the dress, trying to figure out why it didn't flow the way it was supposed to on the runway. They had less than a week to fix four outfits; it was going to be tight. However, he allowed a small bit of his mind to worry about Harry. He had sounded off on the phone. When he told Harry he would be working really late he expected Harry to understand, but what he got was such a positive response that it had to be false. Harry was trying too hard, which meant something was bothering him. What it was, Draco was unsure. Whatever it was, it was going to have to wait. He returned his full focus to Brian, deciding the bottom hem of the dress was to blame, which meant he had to change the entire bottom stitch. With a sigh he grabbed the seam ripper and began undoing all his hard work.

It was past midnight when Draco finally returned to his flat. He was beyond exhausted; shoulders, back and fingers sore from repairing that damned dress. All he wanted to do was go to sleep, aware that he would have get up early and do it all again tomorrow if they had any chance to be prepared for next week's show. The main living space was dark as he came in, but he saw a faint light from his room, using that as a guide instead of turning on anymore lights. Harry was in bed, sitting up as Draco came in. He was shirtless, obviously ready for bed, but still wide awake. "Hey. I thought you'd be asleep." Draco undressed as he was talking, folding his clothes and setting them neatly on a chair. Harry gave a small shake of the head. He was downcast, everything about him seemed slightly deflated, except his eyes. They still lit up when they looked at each other. Draco pulled on a pair of soft night pants, making his way toward Harry. "Want to talk about it?" Harry opened his mouth; nothing came out, though he gave a nod. "Give me a second." Draco went through his nightly routine in record time. He barely got into bed before Harry reached for him, sliding over to rest on his chest. Draco held him, one arm on Harry's waist, the other on his shoulder. He wasn't sure what was upsetting Harry, but he was fairly confident it wasn't him. For once.

Harry sighed, a quiet exclamation of pain escaping with his exhaled breath.

"Are you alright?" Draco glanced down at Harry, just noticing a splotching ugly bruise on Harry's side. "What did you do?" He tried not to sound alarmed, lightly touching the sore spot. It felt hot against his fingers and he lifted them quickly.

"Actually, put your hand back, will you?" Draco complied and Harry took another deep breath, this one sounded relieved. "Thanks." He was quiet, his left hand slowly moving back and forth over Draco's chest. "I might have ruined my friendship with Ron today." Harry said finally after several moments of silence.

That would explain the odd mood. Draco didn't quite hate Ronald Weasley, but he certainly wasn't his favorite person. Both of their families were pure blood, something that had mattered to Draco for most of his life, but less now. The Weasley's never seemed to care about their heritage, their ancestry. Ronald and his siblings never valued their pure blood, and as a child, that meant Draco didn't value them. However, he knew _Harry _valued the red head's company, for whatever reason. He tried to be optimistic, "I'm sure you didn't."

"I broke his nose." Harry said, glancing up from Draco's chest looking only slightly guilty.

It took a lot of self control not to laugh, but somehow Draco managed. "And this? From him?" He lifted his fingers from the bruise and Harry used his free hand to put it back. Draco tightened an arm around him, offering him silent support. "So what happened?"

"Oh, I botched things up," Harry began, rolling over so that he was staring at the ceiling, his head resting on Draco's shoulder. Without looking he found Draco's hand and put it back on his bruise. Draco was fine being his ice pack, gently keeping his cooler fingers on Harry's skin. Once comfortable again, Harry glanced at Draco from an angle. "Ron overheard me talking to Hermione yesterday." Draco thought maybe it was something like that, nodding for Harry to go on. "I don't know what made him madder: me being with you, or me not telling him about you."

"I'm sorry," Draco said softly.

"Why? You don't even like Ron."

Draco was tired and didn't look forward to working another ten hour day tomorrow. He yawned, "No, I don't like him," he admitted, "but I like you. If this is upsetting you, then it's upsetting me." He yawned again, kissing the top of Harry's head. "And it's keeping me awake."

"Ah, the real reason," Harry said lightly. He reached for his wand and turned off the lights, casting the room into darkness. Harry settled back against Draco, who returned his hand to Harry's bruise without having to be asked. Draco thought maybe Harry was willing to go to sleep, but he was wrong. Harry dropped his hand on the bed with a thud. "You know what makes me so mad?"

Draco struggled to keep his eyes open. "No, but I'm sure you'll tell me."

"He sounded so supportive, so understanding when he didn't know you were the reason I was sad."

There seemed to be a bit of missing information in that statement, but Draco was too tired to ask for clarification. Though it did give him a thought. "Well, that's a good thing."

"A good thing?"

"Yeah. You just have to overcome his hatred of me, not his hatred of homosexuality. I'm flattered he hates me more than that."

"Draco," Harry said with an edge to his voice, thinking Draco was being too flippant.

"I'm being serious. Besides, haven't you and Weasley had fallings out before?" Draco seemed to recall several times when Ron and Harry were at odds. They always managed to forgive each other. He didn't think Harry was overreacting, he just didn't think he was looking far enough in the future.

"Yeah, but nothing like this."

"I'm sure you thought that before."

"Draco, you better have a point because you're starting to irritate me." With an angry sound from his throat Harry moved away from Draco.

Draco blindly reached for his wand on his nightstand and whispered a _lumos_ so he could see Harry's face. He was on his side, a few inches away, scowling at him. "My point is this: Weasley and Granger have stayed by your side throughout everything. They stood by you even when it meant possible death by Voldemort's hands. They have always stood by you. I can't _possibly_ be worse than Voldemort." He doused his wand, finding Harry's face in the dark from memory, holding it in his hand. "So, I say this not only because I want to go to sleep, but because I mean it: He'll come around."

Harry gave his hand a squeeze and then fell back on his pillow. Draco hoped maybe _now _Harry was willing to sleep. He started to relax, leaning back, eyes closed. Just as he started to fade, a warm hand touched his shoulder. "Are you still awake?"

"Mmhm," Draco lied slightly.

"No you're not." Harry's voice was quietly disappointed.

Draco forced his eyes open in the dark and suppressed the sigh he so wanted to use. Instead, he strummed his fingers lightly on Harry's arm. "I'm awake, and I'm listening."

A few seconds passed before he heard Harry take a deep breath. "I think I'm being selfish."

"Selfish?" Draco was genuinely surprised at Harry's self accusation. "You're the least selfish person I know."

"It's just...I wanted to apologize to Ron, I really did."

"But?"

Harry's body tensed up. "I'm tired of always saying I'm sorry." There came another sigh. "See? Selfish? I want it all; you, them, even the apology."

Draco considered his words carefully before speaking. "That doesn't make you selfish, Harry. It makes you human." He pulled him a little closer. "You and Weasley _will _get through this. I'll even be civil to him when you do. You know why?" He felt Harry shake his head against his chest. "Because I'd do anything for you."

Harry sat up, and for a minute Draco thought he was going to turn on the lights again, or worse, get out of bed, but instead two lips, soft and warm, met his in a kiss, short and sweet. "Thank you," Harry whispered as he placed another kiss on Draco's lips.

"You're welcome," Draco pulled Harry down until he was resting on him again. "Now, _please_, go to sleep." His answer was another kiss on his skin followed by some wiggling and then stillness. A few minutes passed before Harry put Draco's cool hand back on his side and then there was no more movement, only the heavier weight of a body asleep. Ironically, Draco was awake now, enjoying the feel of Harry sleeping on him. A small plan was forming in his mind, a plan to heal the broken bonds of friendship between Harry and Weasley. But it would require help. He wasn't sure how he was going to fit it into his schedule tomorrow, but he would. He wanted Harry happy, that was beginning to be more important to Draco than his own happiness. So much so that he was even willing to be civil with Weasely _for_ Harry. Now, he had to get Weasely to agree too. He let his fingers trail up and down Harry's arm for a while, the motion soothing him until he too fell asleep.


	13. Chapter 13: The Calm Before

**Some slash...standard disclaimers apply**

**The Calm Before**

Near noon Draco found an opportunity to excuse himself from the warehouse while everyone was on a lunch break. He called Harry, only to confirm that he was still at _Seven Thirty One._ He didn't want Harry to know he was planning anything until Draco knew the outcome first. He apparated to his flat and made his way to his closet, pushing past his muggle clothes, way to the back where he kept his robes. It had been a long time since he wore any of them, though some were quite beautiful. He picked out a satin black robe with a delicate silver brocade on the end of the sleeves and at the bottom hem. It had been a birthday present from his mother; his twenty first. It had gone unworn, until now.

Draco pulled it out, shaking it slightly and then put it on, smoothing it down over his clothes. In the mirror he checked his hair, brushing the nearly white locks to the side. And then he took a deep breath, looking at his reflection. "You sure about this?" He asked himself. When no one gave any objections, Draco left his flat for the nearest Ministry entrance.

He wasn't quite sure what to expect when he arrived at the Ministry. Whenever he had accompanied his father in the past, witches and wizards gave them a wide space, deferring to his father out of respect. Or fear, Draco was willing to admit. Now, well, the Malfoy name carried a different connotation. Though the Ministry never said so, everyone knew the Malfoy's had aided Voldemort, were part of his inner circle. It was a poorly kept secret that Lucius Malfoy only betrayed Voldemort to save his own skin. The damage to the Malfoy name seemed irreparable. Draco remembered the sneers and pointing fingers and whispered words well.

Now, he walked the halls of the Ministry for the first time in years, head held defiantly high. There were a few whispers, a few curious glances, but Draco got through to the Atrium without any serious problems. It was small relief. He looked through the directory until he found what he was looking for, using the lift to his destination.

Scanning names on doors as we walked down a hall, he knocked when he found the one he wanted.

"Come in!"

Draco came in, sitting uninvited on a chair opposite a very surprised Hermione Weasley. "You and I have a common problem," he began without preamble.

Hermione tried to concentrate on her work. She was currently trying to open communications with a very secluded group of dwarves that recently decided to move to Britain. As part of her role for gaining equality for all non-human species, she was also given control of inter-species relations. Normally, Hermione enjoyed her work. She truly believed she was making a difference, but this group of dwarves was a hassle. They wouldn't even open a dialogue with Hermione unless she could solve their riddle, and so far she hadn't had any luck. She glanced at her bulletin board, the riddle in a language she didn't recognize next to the group of the dwarves. A large book was on her desk and she was going through known dwarvish languages, looking for a match, but coming up empty. On top of her work frustrations, she was distracted by Ron and Harry.

Maybe she shouldn't have kept Harry's secret from Ron, but as she repeatedly told Ron and as she had told Harry, it hadn't been her secret to tell. She tried to tell Ron that, even tried to remind Ron how happy Harry had been before Draco left. Though she didn't use those words; she just called it the "Incident".

"_Don't you see?" She had tried to reason with her angry husband. "He's happy! We don't have a right to tell him what to do!"_

_Ron had still been too angry to think rationally, but Hermione had tried her best anyway. "Happy? Happy? With...with Malfoy!" He had nearly choked on the word. "But he left, didn't he? Left and didn't care how Harry felt."_

"_I don't know, Ron! He came back! Can't you please talk to Harry about this? Please."_

"_No." Ron had slammed his hand on the counter. Hermione remembered jumping, surprised at Ron's anger. "And I don't want you talking to him either."_

"_Ron…"_

"_Listen, Hermione. This, this is a total betrayal. Can't you see that? He doesn't trust me, or he would have told me. Just, leave it alone." And then he had stormed out of the room._

Now, in her office, Hermione sighed as she sat against her chair. The reason Harry didn't want to tell Ron about his involvement with Draco was because he had been afraid Ron would react just like this. What a mess. It had been a long time since Harry and Ron fought, probably not since Harry ended his relationship with Ginny. They got past that…hopefully they could get past this. A knock on her office door broke Hermione's reverie. "Come in!"

Of all the possible ways her day was going to go, she never would have guessed it would include Draco Malfoy coming into her office and sitting across from her, legs crossed, chin leaning against a closed fist. "You and I have a common problem."

Her mouth worked open and closed a few times before she nodded. "I guess we do." She took a moment to look at Malfoy without staring too long. He had grown taller, maybe even as tall as Ron, but with a much slenderer build. His hair was shorter too, styled in a muggle cut that Hermione never would have imagined a younger Malfoy being caught dead with. She met his eyes and then glanced down, strangely intimidated by that piercing gaze. And then she remembered that she was an adult, and this was _her _office to begin with. There was something different about his expression that Hermione was struggling to identify, but she couldn't quite figure it out. Instead, she sighed, bringing her attention back to the matter at hand. "I don't know what can be done, Malfoy. Ron is furious."

"Draco."

"What?"

Malfoy uncrossed his legs and let his arms rest on the chair. "My name, _Hermione, _is Draco. Maybe that's part of the problem." He mused. "This isn't Hogwarts anymore. This isn't school. How are we _ever _going to be polite to each other if we can't even call each other by our given names. Besides, I refuse to call you Weasley and Harry's always on me not to call you Granger."

Thinking of Harry made Hermione smile. "Is he?"

"Yes." He paused, almost debating to say more and then he sighed. "He feels awful about this fight, but he's not going to apologize."

Hermione frowned, biting at a nail. "That's how Ron feels too. Though, to be honest, I'm not sure an apology would work anyway. He's...I don't know…"

"Completely blinded by his hatred of me?" Malfoy offered, with a bit of an apology on his own face.

"Yeah, that's it. He really does hate you." She didn't mean to, but the last came out more as a question than a statement.

Malfoy seemed guilty, looking slightly away. "Weasley and I have known each other for a long time. Our _families_ have known each other for a long time."

Hermione thought she understood. "A family feud?"

"Something like that. And...I've never given Weasley any reason to _want _to be friendly anyway."

"But now there's Harry," Hermione offered.

"Now there's Harry." Malfoy agreed. A certain change in eyes happened when he spoke about Harry, a gentleness that surprised Hermione. She wasn't used to seeing any nice emotions on Malfoy's face. "So I need your help." Nor was she used to Malfoy asking _her _for help. "I want…" he paused again, looking around at the room as if looking for the words. Hermione realized it was because he was uncomfortable speaking to her so candidly. It occurred to her then that Malfoy, no, _Draco's_ presence here spoke more about his feelings for Harry than anything Harry could have said.

"He doesn't know you're here, does he?" Hermione asked softly.

"No. I don't want to get his hopes up. What I want," he tried again, "is for him to be happy, and that includes you and Weasley in his life."

Who would have thought it. She and Draco Malfoy not only had a common problem, but a common goal. "So? What do you suggest?"

Draco sighed, "Other than locking them in a room and taking their wands away, I don't have much of an idea."

Hermione laughed, despite the seriousness of Draco's tone. "We'd have to make sure they don't attack each other again. Ron's nose is _still _swollen."

"Harry has a nice bruise as well." Draco glanced down at his watch and leaned forward on Hermione's desk. "Have a pen and paper?" She reached for a quill and parchment, quietly handing the items over. Though he asked for a muggle pen, Draco's aptitude for the quill hadn't diminished. Hermione watched as he quickly, but neatly, wrote a string of numbers on the parchment. "This is my mobile number. If you think of anything, or…I don't know, something miraculous happens and Weasley comes to his senses, give me a call." He folded it the parchment and handed it to her.

She wrote her number down as quickly. "Here, in case you come up with something."

Draco took the parchment folded it and put it in his pocket. As he stood, he made his way to Hermione's bulletin board, tapping at her note with the unknown language on it. "This isn't Dwarvish, by the way."

"What?" She got up and stood next to him.

"All of these," he pointed to numerous sticky notes with various important phrases in different Dwarvish dialogues next to their matching groups, "Dwarvish, but not this one. This is Gaelic, old Gaelic, but the looks of it." He made sure she was following along. "Too many vowels."

Hermione became excited, grabbing the sticky note off the board. "Of course! That's brilliant! Thank you!"

"You're welcome," he headed for the door, "now help me with Harry."

"I'll do my best." He turned to leave, but paused as she called his name. "Draco?" Now it was Hermione's turn to feel uncomfortable, but she had to know the answer to this next question. "You're not going to leave him again, are you?"

At first she didn't know if he was going to answer. He was halfway in, halfway out of her office, facing away. "No." He glanced back at her, and she was surprised to see a haunted expression in his eyes, one she'd seen before, but with green eyes, not silver. She felt there was more he wanted to say, but it was either too personal, or he didn't know how to explain it. He gave her a look that asked to be understood, so she nodded, unable to say anything else.

She watched as he left her office, closing her door. That expression, that broken eyed expression, it had matched Harry's perfectly from during Draco's absence. Hermione sat and thought back on her strange visitor. Draco had changed dramatically from Hogwarts, or...well, maybe he was just more honest, or maybe he just grew up. He had gone an entire conversation without sniding, sneering, _or _calling her a mudblood. It was unprecedented. Either Harry brought out these changes in him or Harry recognized the changes, but one thing was very sure to Hermione: Draco _cared _for Harry. Her instincts told her it went deeper than that. No matter how casually Draco mentioned it, no one was willing to drop a family feud for a casual fling, not in the Wizarding World. Those kinds of feuds tended to be permanent. If Draco was willing to overlook it, then it meant his feelings for Harry ran deep. Now, she had to find out if Ron's ran as deep.

Plus, and she glanced down at the sticky note in her hand, she was now able to solve the riddle!

Harry was getting ready to leave _Seven Thirty One _when Eric knocked on his office door, sticking his head in at the same time. Harry kept a very casual office.

"Hey, Harry, a group of us are going to play soccer tomorrow morning at the East London Soccer Club. Want to join?"

"Sure! Mind if I ask Drake to join us?" Eric had been at the tasting party and Harry figured he'd remember.

"Drake Black? Some of the boys have a real fancy for him; they'd love to get their hands on him!"

Harry wasn't sure what came over him, he knew the chef was just talking, just teasing, but a bit of jealousy flared up. "Well, they can look." He hardly recognized his own voice! It was low and serious. What the hell!?

But Eric just laughed. "I'm just messing with you, Harry. Of course, bring him along. 10:30, alright?"

They said their goodbyes and Harry made his short commune to his flat the regular muggle way. His reaction to the idea of someone else touching Draco still shocked him. He'd never been a jealous type, ever! And he even knew the chef was teasing. It was like he couldn't stop himself. Draco would probably laugh at him. Call him an idiot, and, well, maybe he was acting like one.

They hadn't talked about seeing each other tonight in so many words, but when Draco called him earlier he had mentioned seeing him later. Harry went into his room and sat on his bed. He guessed he had a few choices. One, sleep here alone. His mind screamed a negative at that choice. He enjoyed Draco's arms around him, how he always managed to touch him, caress him; it lulled him to sleep. In fact, Harry hadn't had one nightmare while sleeping with Draco. He had the forest dream several times, but that was opposite of a nightmare. That dream filled him with peace and serenity, even if he didn't understand it. Ok, choice two: have Draco sleep here with him. That wasn't a bad idea, but the more Harry thought about it the more he enjoyed the thought of Option three: sleeping over at Draco's. His flat was beautiful, definitely more spacious, and his kitchen was amazing. Having made up _his _mind (he'd still ask Draco of course) he grabbed a small bag and packed some toiletries, pajamas and a new outfit. Before he zipped up the bag he went into the living room and grabbed _The Da Vinci Code_. He also raided his refrigerator, grabbing enough ingredients to make a couple different dinners. With a nod of satisfaction, Harry apparated away from his flat and into Draco's.

He knew Draco would be home relatively early tonight. When they had talked after lunch Draco was in a good mood. The preparations for London's Fashion Week were ahead of schedule, which meant Draco was free to come home at a decent time. Tuesday's were typically slow days at the restaurant, so Harry also had the evening off. But waiting around doing nothing was never in Harry's character, so he rummaged through Draco's kitchen until he found pots and pans and began to make dinner.

Around six Draco came home. Harry was sitting at the tall kitchen table, writing in a notebook when he heard the door open. He smiled, turning in greeting, "Hey."

Draco hung his jacket on the coat hanger and returned the smile. "Hey." He came over and briefly kissed Harry on the lips. "What are you making?" He was smelling the aromas from the kitchen.

"A vegetable lasagna with a salad."

"Smells good."

Harry, still sitting, lightly pulled Draco into an embrace. "Should be done soon."

Draco ran his fingers through Harry's hair, gazing down and meeting his eyes. There was something new in his expression tonight, something that Harry hadn't seen before. A light, a brightness, a glow. It was intense and mesmerizing. As was the soft smile still playing on his lips. He tugged at Harry's pajama top. "What's this?"

Harry blushed, he felt just a tad ridiculous wearing pajamas before going to bed, but had put them on anyway. "I wanted to be comfortable."

"It's not a bad idea. Do I have time to take a shower before dinner?"

Harry glanced at the microwave timer. "Yeah. Twenty minutes."

"Alright." He brushed his fingers through Harry's hair a few more times before heading toward the bedroom, stripping out of his sweater as he walked.

Harry watched him for a few more seconds before going back to his notebook. He was playing with new menu ideas, which included writing out new recipes, looking at back at older menu items that hadn't been served in a while, just some of the many things involved in keeping a restaurant relevant. He was pretty absorbed in his work by the time Draco came out of the bedroom, but one look was enough to clear Harry's mind of everything except Draco. Just out of the shower, Draco was using a small towel to dry his hair. He did like Harry, dressing for bed, coming out in a regular black t-shirt and a pair of black cotton pants. Watching Draco ignited a fire inside Harry; a slow and intense burn that was separate from the passion Harry felt when they slept together. No, this was a different fire; a sustaining fire. Draco breathed life into Harry. It was becoming increasingly clear to Harry that his happiness was tied to this tall, blond man that somehow, wanted to be with Harry as well. The universe worked in strange ways.

"Alright there, Harry?" Draco was watching him curiously as he sat at the table.

Harry couldn't have helped the bright smile that came to his lips even if he had tried. "Never better," he replied completely honestly. The timer for the lasagna went off, and Harry cleared the table before pulling the dish out of the oven.

Draco set the table, two plates, two salad bowls, side by side. "Do you want a glass of wine?"

"Hmm, sure." He wasn't a big drinker, but his chef instincts told him a nice red wine would pair well with the Mediterranean vegetables. "Do you have any Languedoc?" He heard Draco moving bottles around in the wine rack, apparently finding a match because a cork was popped out a few minutes later. Harry cut the lasagna, and using a pot holder brought the dish and the salad to the table at the same time.

"This looks great." Draco said softly. He had already poured their glasses and he raised his now, waiting for Harry to accept. "Cheers."

"Cheers!"

They ate as if they had been eating dinners together for years. It always amazed Harry how _easy_ being with Drao was. They talked, they ate, they laughed. Though only a short time had passed, trying to remember what his life was like _before _Draco was becoming increasingly difficult. Instead, Harry relished the now, and, if he was in a particularly good mood let himself dream about the future. Making plans never turned out the way Harry wanted them to, so he had stopped a long time ago, but, oh, he wanted a future with Draco. Wanted everything that involved; mornings, days, nights.

For some reason that reminded him of the soccer game. Harry was nearly done with dinner, fork still in his hand, but idle. "You busy tomorrow? We were invited to play a soccer match."

Draco's eyes lit up. "Sure. But only if we play opposite each other. It's too much fun going against you."

Oddly, Harry was going to suggest the same thing. "Deal. You done?" Draco nodded. "Help me clean up."

"Ugh, Harry. Sometimes you think too much like a muggle." Draco reached for his wand and cast a few spells. The dishes, the food, the wine, their whole dinner started to magically put itself away. The sink filled with soapy water and the dishes began to wash, rinse, dry themselves before carefully going back to their appropriate cupboard. The extra food floated into containers and then whizzed into the open doors of the refrigerator. Even the wine was recorked.

Harry glanced at Draco's proud expression, stifling a laugh. "Fine. That's one way to do it."

Draco extended a hand to Harry and led him into the living room. The _Da Vinci Code _was on the couch and Draco grinned. "I saw you brought this. Let's see what happens next." He sat sideways on the couch, using the armrest for support and pulled Harry down with him so that Harry was lying on top of Draco.

"Your feet are cold." It wasn't quite a complaint, but regardless, Harry used his own feet to cover Draco's pale toes.

"Thank you. Now shut up." Harry suppressed a laugh and wiggled a bit to get comfortable as Draco began to read the next chapter. His voice was smooth and calming and before Harry realized he must have fallen asleep. He heard Draco's voice as if from far away. "_Harry. Harry, love. Let's _go to bed." Draco was slightly shaking him. "Come on."

Drowsily, Harry sat up. "What?"

"Bed. Sleep." Draco tossed the book on the other side of Harry and got up, reaching a hand for Harry.

Harry was still half asleep, but he let Draco lead him to their bedroom. The bathroom light was on and they hurried through their routines (at least Harry thought he hurried). A little chilled, Harry kept his shirt on but ditched his pants as he climbed into bed. Draco manually turned off the lights and closed the blinds before making his way to the bed, stripping down to just his boxers. For someone who always seemed cold, the cold never seemed to bother him! The room was dark now. Harry felt the mattress move as Draco got into bed. The sheets and comforter were lifted and then settled over their bodies. Harry didn't have to wait long before a cool hand reached out and caressed Harry's forearm in a silent invitation. Harry didn't need to be asked twice, he wiggled over until his body was touching the length of Draco's. He lay on his side, head on Draco's chest. His heartbeat was steady; bu bum, bu bum. Harry draped his arm over Draco's side, and Draco inhaled deeply.

"Goodnight, Harry." His breathing was already slow and deep, steady. Sounds that Harry recognized as Draco sleeping.

"Night, Draco," He whispered back, close to sleep himself. It was only when Harry was inches away from sleep that Draco's words finally permeated his consciousness. _Harry, love. _He had called him love! Unfortunately sleep was calling Harry too strongly for him to analyze that much closer. He went to sleep with Draco's voice echoing in his mind. _Harry, love. Love. Love._

Draco's dream sent him to a lush tropical forest. The air was warm, humid, and yet pleasant. All around him was greenery, so many plants and trees with different hues and shades he'd never seen. He let his fingers trail along a flat leaf, larger than both his hands combined. His fingers came away damp with dew. He gazed up, through the canopy. There were clouds in the sky, heavy with rain; a silver blanket for an emerald land. Draco closed his eyes, letting the drops from the heavens fall on him. This place, it reminded him of Harry and the peace Draco felt whenever he was with him. It stirred in him strange feelings, like all he needed to do was close his eyes and Harry was with him. It meant something, he knew it did, and yet Draco struggled with the significance. What he did know was that this place was special and it had something to do with Harry. Harry, tanned skin, bright green eyes. Harry, who had such a capacity for forgiveness. _Harry_…

Draco woke, his whole body tingling. Harry was kissing him, lower and lower, he sighed in pleasure as Harry went down on him, using his mouth, in and out, hands helping, and _Merlin, _but he wasn't going to last long. Harry intensified his ministrations, and Draco moved with him, lost in passion, crying Harry's name as he came into the night. Draco reached for Harry, even though he felt boneless, and pulled him closer, kissing him briefly, tasting himself on Harry's lips. He could just make out Harry's pleased expression. That dream was still with him, he imagined the emerald forest in Harry's eyes. "Harry...I…" he let his words drift away, suddenly afraid to say what he wanted so desperately for Harry to know.

Harry's eyes sparkled in the darkness, a deep understanding within them and he kissed Draco again. "I know." He wrapped Draco's arms around him and settled back against him, listening as Draco's breathing evened out. Just as Draco faded back to sleep, he heard Harry whisper into the night, "Me too."

The morning came too soon if Draco was being honest with himself. He'd been so busy getting ready for London's Fashion Week, that he hadn't been able to spend as much time with Harry has he would have liked. It was regrettable, but also understandable. Life went on. But nights, those belonged to he and Harry. Draco never cared to spend the whole night with his past lovers, choosing instead to leave before the sun rose. None of them had ever shared his _actual _bed, except Harry. So many things were different with Harry. Draco experienced emotions and sensations he didn't even know he was capable of having, the strongest being love. Draco had always thought that word meant you were weak. To love someone, how cliche. To put someone's wants, needs and happiness before your own, it was the complete opposite to how he was raised. However, the longer he stayed with Harry, the more he found his beliefs changing.

He glanced down at Harry's head, brown hair messily splayed on his chest. One of Harry's hands was loosely holding his bicep, and Draco smiled to himself. It always seemed he was the one that needed to touch Harry; it was nice to know that Harry felt the same. With a minimum of movement Draco reached his wand and whispered _Tempus_. Small white numbers swirled in the air briefly before vanishing as quickly as they were summoned. Eight in the morning. Decision, decisions. To get up, or to stay? Harry was still fast asleep, so Draco settled back and lazily let his hands caress Harry. Touching him, holding him, it gave Draco such pleasure. Eventually Harry began to stir, stretching along the length of Draco before settling on his side. Draco felt small kisses on his chest, on his nipple, and then on his arm.

"Morning," Harry said with a yawn. He made to sit up, but Draco pulled him back down.

"Let's stay like this, just a little longer." Harry apparently didn't need any more convincing, he lay his head down and snuggled closer. Draco, wand still within his reach, cast a spell to slightly open the blinds. The room wasn't flooded by the grey February morning, but it was certainly brighter. Draco closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment of pure sensory pleasure. Harry's body was next to his, radiating a warm heat; a nice counter his cooler temperature. He could feel Harry's weight, strong and stable, on his chest. One of Harry's legs was curled around his own, warm feet against cool. Harry was lazily using his fingers on his chest, back and forth, back and forth. For Draco, it might have been one of the truest, happiest moments in his life. Then he felt Harry tense up, fingers pausing on his chest.

"Draco...these scars...are they from me?"

Draco didn't need to open his eyes to sense the alarm and concern in that question. It was evident in Harry's tone. Draco wasn't sure how to answer without upsetting Harry. Instead, he tried to deflect while he thought of his reply. Most of the scars were so thin, razor thin, that unless you looked in the right light (or apparently were lying right on top of them) you would never notice the pale streaks across his chest and upper arms. He'd had them for so long, Draco rarely noticed them any more. Without looking he traced one of the thicker scars with his own finger. "I forget they're there, most of the time."

He felt Harry recoil against him. "They _are _from me. From _sectumsempra_." Harry tried to get up, but Draco quickly grabbed him, holding him down. "Let go." He demanded, a hitch in his throat.

Draco opened his eyes and was surprised to see Harry's green eyes glistening, tears threatening to fall. "Harry, wait. Stop, I'm not letting you go yet." Draco held Harry's arms as he again tried to get up. "We're trying it your way, remember? Where we talk about things?" Draco waited until Harry stopped struggling and then released him. Harry sat up, but didn't bolt. He moved toward the end of the bed, bringing his knees up to his chest. Draco also sat up, disliking the space between them, but honoring it. He touched his scars again, noticing that Harry glanced away, maybe in shame. It was hard to read Harry's face. "Harry, I don't blame you for these." Draco began as honestly as he could.

A bit of shock flickered on Harry's face. "Why wouldn't you? I could have killed you. I didn't even know the counter. Hell, I didn't even know what the spell did. It was so _reckless._"

"Maybe." Draco said softly, "But let me explain. Sixth year, that was the worst year of my life. Do you know how hard it is to choose between what is right and your family?" Draco rarely thought back to that year. The stress, the pressure, the desire to impress his father against betraying his school, his friends, his own morals, as weak as they were. The threat of punishment and death if he failed. And then there had been Harry. So sure of himself. So righteous. Draco took a deep breath. "I _hated _you so much that year. Every time I came closer to helping Voldemort, the more I grew to hate you."

"Why?" Harry whispered.

"You had it so _easy_. No conflicts. You did what you thought was right, all the time. And I...I couldn't. Not without disappointing my father or risking Voldemort's ire." Draco let a bitter half smile grace his lips. "The _Cruciatus _is not something that lessens over time, is it?" Harry's eyes widened and he shook his head, understanding Draco's implications. Draco thought back to that day in the bathroom. He had nearly reached the end of his quickly fraying rope. Everything in his life had been unraveling. His grades, his hopes and dreams for the future, his respect for his father. Around every corner Draco had seen failure and death, but not just death; a long, torturous death that might have included his parents. "When you cast that spell on me, I was hoping it _would _kill me." He saw Harry's confused and then panicked expression. "But Harry, I don't blame you. After Snape and Pomfrey patched me up, I came to a new realization. Our actions, _my _actions, have consequences. It was a hard lesson to learn. These scars, they remind me of that."

When Harry said nothing Draco crawled toward him on the bed until he was on his knees. Harry glanced at him, but then averted his eyes. He brushed Harry's hair out of his eyes, "I know what you're thinking."

Harry made an irritated noise in his throat. "No you don't."

"Yes I do." Draco stroked Harry's cheek, his neck. He pried Harry's arms open, his knees slid away from his chest and Draco pulled Harry close to him. "It doesn't matter anymore, Harry." Harry was straddling Draco's knees. Draco, still holding Harry's arms, put them around his neck before wrapping his own arms around Harry's body. "Do you understand? We can't change the past. And, I'd do it a million times again if this is where that path leads." Draco kissed Harry's neck, his cheek, the side of his mouth. Harry's arms tightened around his neck in response.

Harry sighed. "I'm sorry, if it makes it any better."

"No, don't do that." Draco held Harry tighter. "We can't start saying sorry for everything that happened in the past. And we _can't_ keep a ledger. If you want to talk about those years, we will, but we can't apologize for them."

Harry pulled away, just enough so he could see Draco's face. Draco hoped he saw the honesty. Draco learned a long time ago that wishing to change the past was self defeating. You couldn't, all you could do was live with the consequences in the present. If all his mistakes, pain, and decisions in the past were needed for this moment, then Draco would do them again and again. "Harry, you're my future, you're my now. Nothing in the past is going to change that for me. Will it for you?"

"No."

Draco's heart skipped a beat. Such a simple word, but when uttered with so much intensity, so much meaning behind it, it meant the world to Draco, as did the breath stealing kiss that followed. Draco only had a split second warning before Harry pushed him backward, and then they were a tangle of limbs, arms and legs, and mouths, close together on the bed. Draco's heart was full, full of his love for Harry, and full of Harry's love. He would have to tell Harry out loud one day, how much he meant to him, but for now, he closed his eyes and sunk deeper into Harry's kisses and embrace.

After a few more moments, Draco squeezed Harry and then released him. "Come, on. Let's get some breakfast. We've got a game to play." Harry hesitated a moment, then Harry grabbed his pants and Draco grabbed his robe and together they began their day.

It was a rare sunny day for late mid-February. The sky was clear, another rarity, for the rain had momentarily washed away any pollutants in the air. The club was bustling, for a Thursday. Draco briefly read the schedules on the boards; no official games today, just groups like their own playing for fun. Harry was next to him, glancing around. They were both already in play gear, wands safely ensconced in rented lockers. There would be no magical interference today. Harry spotted someone and waved. A group of five men came over, cheerful and already arrogant.  
"Ready to lose, Harry?"

Draco recognized this man from _Seven Thirty One. _He was a chef. Draco extended a hand and grinned. "I'm on your team then."

Curious glances were exchanged. "Oh, we thought you'd be playing on the same team as Harry."

Draco caught the innuendo. "Oh, we do, just not when it comes to soccer."

The group of guys laughed and jeered good naturedly. Harry rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "That's why you never win."

Draco laughed. "The gauntlet has been thrown!"

The chef was looking away as a larger group of guys called for him. One of the men held up four fingers. "Alright! Field Four. Drake, you're with us," he motioned to the group around. "Harry, you're with them. Let's go!" The group of men was laughing and jogging toward the field, but Harry held back a second, stalling Draco by holding his elbow.

"No cheating, Draco."

"You know my feelings on this. It's only cheating.."

"If you get caught, I know. Still, do your best."

Draco grinned. "I always give my best."

"Hey Harry! No consorting with the enemy! Let's go!"

Harry waved to the man yelling at him. "Be right there." Then he turned his attention back to Draco. "This is all just fun, right?"

"Of course." Draco glanced around. No one was paying them any attention and he quickly kissed Harry's lips. "I'll expect a grand celebration when I win though."

"Keep dreaming."

Draco laughed and they both jogged toward Field Four.

Both teams were equally matched and the first period ended in a tie, 0-0. The second period saw Draco's team take the lead. Though Harry was still playing well, many on his team were starting to tire, making it easier to score. Near the end of the game it was 2-0. Draco himself scored the last point. Harry was doing his best to encourage his team, but it was obvious that he was frustrated with them. At least it was obvious to Draco, who was torn between pitying Harry or celebrating. The game ended with no more points added on the board: 2-0. Draco celebrated by joining his team in a huddle, shouting and hollering like an idiot. Once they broke the two sides gathered in the middle of the field, congratulating everyone on a good game. Draco tried his best not to rub the victory in Harry's face.

Harry just laughed. "Go on, gloat. I can tell you want to."

Draco didn't need to be told twice. "Who's the winner now, Harry? Not so smug, now, hm?"

Harry shoved him out of his face, grinning the whole time."Alright, alright! It was a good game."

"Even better because I won."

"Shut up." He lightly smacked Draco on the arm.

The group headed to the lockers to wash and change clothes. They all said their goodbys and went their separate ways. Draco met Harry at their locker, still grinning.

Harry was pretending to ignore him, pulling out their jackets and tossing Draco his his. They were walking home, back to Draco's flat to drop off their soccer gear when Harry sighed. "You know who would have liked this?"

Draco perceived a change in Harry, a sadness that cast a pall on his victory. "Weasley?"

"Yeah." It was the first time Harry had mentioned Weasley in a while and Draco dared to mention a reconciliation.

"Maybe call him. Talk to him. Some time has passed."

"Damn." Harry pulled out his phone and glared at it. "I'm supposed to cater for their wedding anniversary next weekend. I guess I'll have to cancel that." He flipped open his phone and made to call, but Draco closed it, holding it shut with his hands.

"Don't do that, Harry."

"Why not?" Harry was irritated with him, but Draco wasn't fazed.

"It just seems too...permanent. Give it a few more days. He'll come around. Please."

Harry considered, and then eventually nodded. Draco let him put his phone away. The sky darkened just as they got to the flat and they hurried to the main lobby avoiding the sudden rain, taking the lift up. That urge to touch Harry had been building in Draco since the end of the game, now he had no reason to fight it. He pressed Harry against the side of the lift, dropping small kisses on his neck, his hands on either side of Harry for support.

"Times up, hmm?" Harry slid his hands under Draco's shirt and pulled him closer.

"Mmhmm," Draco answered as he moved closer, kissing Harry. One eye caught their reflection in the metal walls. Their soccer clothes were abandoned by their feet, Harry's hands were all over him, and _Merlin, _that look on his face was pure bliss. The lift came to a stop and they parted, both breathing a little heavily. Draco grabbed their belongings with a grin and a shake of the head. He hadn't meant to start something; they both were already late to work. He just couldn't help himself sometimes. Now he had that image of Harry, head back in passion, stuck on replay in his own mind. "Dammit, Harry." Draco opened the door, purposefully keeping some distance between them. He threw their belongings on the couch instead of risking contact. If he got his hands on Harry right now, neither one of them was going to be leaving soon.

Harry seemed to understand, a regretful smile on his lips. "I know."

Draco was half aware that Harry was following him with a mischievous glint in his emerald eyes. "So, I have to go." Draco grabbed his briefcase and made a circuitous route to the door, around the couch, as far from Harry as he could manage.

"Uh huh." Harry was grinning, that adorable idiot grin, which wasn't helping Draco.

"I'll see you tonight?" He was backing out of the flat, Harry leaning against the door frame watching him with amusement and that spark of desire that told Draco he needed to keep moving.

"Uh huh."

Draco pushed for the lift and was extremely happy and disappointed when it immediately opened. He forced himself to turn around and walk into the lift, shaking his head. Damn Harry. Too damned good looking for his own good. And now he was going to be turned on all day. Though, he mused, that _might_ not be the worst thing. The doors to the lift were shutting and Draco was about to push the button down when a tanned arm stopped the doors. Draco looked up in surprise. And then Harry was in the lift kissing him deeply and soundly. Draco moaned into his mouth and then Harry pulled away, pushing the first floor and the close doors buttons in quick succession before he lightly jumped out of the lift.

"See you later, Draco."

The doors shut on Harry's pleased face. "Harry! Dammit Harry!" He could imagine Harry laughing. Great. Now he _was _turned on. Stupid Potter. He let the lift go down. Draco left his flat and walked the short distance to his warehouse, thoughts still firmly on Harry. Who knew he could be such a tease. It was a different side of him, a playful side that Draco didn't see often. It thrilled him and distracted him at the same time, which also irritated him. How could one man illicit so many emotions at once!

Work was a welcome distraction. Most of the workers were making replications of the certain designs that went over well in the New York show. Those outfits would be ready to be sold in the Drake Black Designs Stores in a few weeks. Brian was making last minute checks on the outfits for Monday's show. Draco waved greetings to people as he made his way down to his office, aware that for this first time in a long time he was happy. Since that wasn't a normal occurrence for him, it was a big thing. However, _one _aspect of his life still needed remedied. Alright, _two_, if he counted the Death Eater still out there, but Draco liked to compartmentalize. He couldn't actually do anything about that problem, so he chose to ignore it. Was it healthy? He didn't know. But problem _one_ was bothering him because it was bothering Harry and that was the problem of Ronald Weasley.

He really thought Harry might have reached out to him today after the game. When he didn't, Draco saw how hurt Harry still was. Sitting behind his desk he decided to call Hermione again. He rummaged through a few papers in his desk until he found the parchment and unfolded her number, hesitated just a second, and then dialed. The phone rang a few times and then he heard a static voice. "_Hello?"_

"Hermione? It's Draco."

There was a long pause. "_Alright."_

"How are things going on your side? I still can't get Harry to call Weasley."

"_Same. Though, well, he has seemed more regrettable lately."_

"Harry too. He misses him."

"_Do you have a plan?"_

"Not any better than the last. Get them into a room, take their wands, and hope they don't injure each other too badly."

There was another pause that Draco took for her thinking. "_You know, that might just work with a little bit of planning."_

Draco was shocked. "You're not serious."

"_I could already pre-spell the house so that they couldn't leave and couldn't damage anything."_

"They'd be furious."

"_Better furious and talking than furious and not talking. What do you think? Could you get Harry here _and _disarm him without him knowing?"_

Bloody hell, Draco couldn't believe he was actually contemplating this. When he suggested this plan it was in partial jest. Now he had to determine if Harry's short term anger at him was worth long term reconciliation with Weasley. Shit. It was actually an easier decision than Draco thought. It was worth it. "Yeah, if you tell me your address I can do the rest." He bit his lip nervously. "This could blow up in our faces, you know."

"_Maybe. But if I know them, they'll shout and fight and then eventually make up. We just need to give them that opportunity."_

"I'm afraid to ask, but when did you want to do this?"

"_Tonight."_

Damn. Tonight? Draco was seriously looking forward to enjoying Harry's company in a completely different way tonight. "Tonight? What about tomorrow?"

"_Ron has to work, and if I know Harry, he'll be working too."_

Double damn. Draco sighed. "Alright. Text me your address. When did you want this to go down?"

"_Seven?"_

Draco was shaking his head. This was a bad idea. However, he also didn't have a better idea. He hoped Harry would understand. "Alright. Seven it is."

"_Just get him inside, Draco. I'll do the rest."_

"Ok. Bye, Hermione."

"_Goodbye, and good luck."_

Draco flipped his phone shut and dropped it on his desk. He was struggling to identify what he was feeling. Anxious, certainly. Nervous...yes, but more he was upset with himself for keeping something from Harry. He was feeling guilty he realized. That was a rare emotion for Draco. He so often didn't care what other people thought of him, he didn't really care if he disappointed them, but this whole thing was making him wary.

A brief knock at his door distracted him. "Yeah?"

"Hey Drake," Brian stuck his head in the office. He decided to continue to call him Drake; he said it was to avoid accidentally calling him Draco in front of the crew. "We're ordering for lunch. Want something?"

"No, thanks though."

Brian frowned at him from the door. He narrowed his eyes and made a circular gesture with his finger. "What's this face? You look guilty."

He was going to have to do better than that if Brian could see through him. "Don't worry about it, it's nothing."

"Right." Brian sarcastically answered.

Draco rolled his eyes and pointed toward the door. "Out. I have work to do."

"You better be behaving yourself."

"Yes, yes, now goodbye."

Brian was still glaring at him as he backed out, but paused before he closed the door. "Draco…" His voice was tinged with concern.

That caught Draco's attention. Brian was a good friend, but way too perceptive. He sighed, "Bloody hell, sit down." He might as well tell someone. Keeping his thoughts and feelings to himself hadn't always served him the best in the past.

Brian closed the door and sat across Draco, shuffling through some recent drawings scattered on Draco's desk. "So, what's going on?"

Draco brushed his hair back from his face. "Harry and his best mate had a bit of a falling out." Brian silently pointed at Draco, correctly guessing the cause. "Yeah, we all went to school together."

"And you and friend don't get along." It was a statement, not a question. Draco nodded. "So what's with the guilt?"

"Short answer? I'm going to either outright lie to Harry, or lie by omission. I don't like either choice."

Brian sat back, thinking. "Is it for Harry's good?"

"Yes," Draco answered immediately. He knew how much Weasley's friendship meant to Harry. Before that fateful night in the club, before so much changed in their own relationship, Harry had freely talked about Weasley and Hermione. They were his family. Though Draco never called Harry on it, he'd nearly stopped mentioning their names at all. The awkward pauses in conversation said it all though. Harry missed them, but didn't know how to go about fixing the rift. It made Draco more certain of his actions. He'd weather Harry's anger, for in the long run Draco believed Harry needed Weasley (ugh, Ronald) and Hermione in his life.

"That's a better face." Brian said with a smile. "More determination." He got up. "Let me know if you need anything." Draco nodded again as Brian made his way to leave. "By the way, I'm ordering you a salad. Any other requests?"

"No almonds."

"Right-o." Brian gave Draco a little salute and then left the office.

Draco glanced at his clock. He had about six hours until the shit hit the fan. It was going to be a long day, and probably a long night.


	14. Chapter 14: The Storm

**Slash!**

**The Storm**

Draco was pacing in his living room, occasionally tugging at his black turtleneck. Harry would be home soon, and then, well, and then Draco would find out if this little scheme worked. At the back of his mind he was terrified. What if Harry didn't understand? What if he decided to go about his life not only without Weasley, but without him as well. It was an uncomfortable prospect that kept Draco from sitting still for any long period of time. He still believed what he was trying to do was the right thing, but like he told Harry; he often had a hard time identifying what the "right" thing was. Hermione's complacency with the plan helped, gave him enough courage to follow through. It just wasn't enough to ease his mind.

Harry had called and said he was running a little late, but would be home near seven. Draco glanced at his microwave clock for the thousandth time. Only a few minutes till seven, and still he paced. The door knob jingled and _finally, finally _Harry was home. Draco stopped mid pace, awkwardly trying to look nonchalant by the couch.

Harry walked in and gave him a funny look. "Hey. What are you doing?"

"Nothing." Shit, he used to be better at lying. He supposed he still was, he just didn't want to lie to Harry. Half lies, then. "Just waiting for you."

"Yeah?" Harry took his jacket off and hung it on the coat rack. Draco could just make out the tip of his wand peeking out of an inside pocket. "And what were you going to do when I got home?"

Draco swallowed. This was unfair. Here was Harry, flirting with him and looking so tempting, and Draco was about to be dishonest. He really hoped this didn't backfire on him. "Well, actually," Draco made the few steps toward Harry, "I was thinking we could go out for dinner tonight."

Harry frowned. Apparently that was _not _on his mind, but it was quickly replaced with a smile. "Sure. Why not?" He walked into Draco's open arms, hugging him. "Have any ideas?"

Draco held Harry. So far everything was going to plan. He had counted on Harry agreeing to dinner. It gave him an excuse to control the apparition. "Um, yeah. A special place. I'll have to apparate us."

"That sounds exciting." Harry glanced up at Draco, expectation on his face. Draco knew he should kiss him, and he wanted to, but he was also afraid. Still, it was Harry and those damned green eyes. Draco bent down and kissed him. It was only for a moment, and then Harry broke the kiss. "You alright, Draco? You seem, I don't know, a little off."

"I'm fine." Draco mentally took a deep breath and tried to calm down. "Well, let's go. I don't want to be late."

"Late? I just got home. And we never eat this early."

"All good points," Draco tried to salvage the situation, "but this is special."

Harry hesitated and Draco did his best to have the most honest, earnest expression on his face. Eventually Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine, let me grab my coat."

Draco snatched Harry's hand. "You won't need it; promise."

"This had better be a good enough surprise to explain why you're acting like a loon." He was frowning at Draco, but at the same time it was good natured.

Draco belatedly realized it was because Harry trusted him. He could literally be taking him into the lion's den, not just figuratively, and Harry would let him because he trusted Draco. That nearly undid him. He had to press Harry close to him so that that anguish on his face didn't show. "Just promise to keep your eyes closed." Draco was surprised his voice came out as strong as he did; he expected it to be shaking.

"Alright. I promise."

Draco felt Harry's voice rumble through his chest and he fought back a bit of panic. If this didn't go well, this might be the last time he got to hold Harry. Thoughts like that were self defeating. There was a plan; he was sticking to it. "Closed?"

"Closed."

Draco grabbed his wand from his back pocket and wove the apparition spell. Side along apparitions took a bit more energy and left one feeling more sea sick, but they arrived with a satisfying pop in the middle of a suburban wizarding community. No one would think twice about witches and wizards appearing and disappearing. It was a nice development, Draco thought distractedly.

"Can I open them now?"

"No! Not yet. Here, follow me." He gave Harry his hand and Harry, with a long suffering sigh, took it, allowing Draco to guide him. Draco went up the driveway and toward the door. Hermione told him not to knock. That would alert Weasley. Instead, she had put a spell on the door to notify her of their arrival. He opened the door and helped Harry inside, closing the door firmly behind him.

"Draco...this...where are we?"

At the same time Draco heard a loud, irritated man coming from down the hall. "What do you mean we have company? I didn't even hear the door!"

Draco had enough time to see Harry's eyes flash open. In a second he recognized where they were and with a glare of accusation whispered, "What did you do?"

He didn't have time to answer. Weasley and Hermione, a step behind him, came into the leaving room. He wasn't sure what kind of reaction Weasley would have to him being in his own home, but he was impressed with the murderous rage that took over his face.

"What are you doing here?"

Draco wasn't sure who was actually speaking to, him or Harry. He was spared from answering by Hermione.

"I asked Draco to bring him here."

"Dr...Draco!" Weasley was red in the neck, cheeks bulging. "Since when are you on such good terms with him!"

"Since you two," she pointed at Ron and Harry standing awkwardly on opposite sides of the room, "starting acting like children."

Draco decided he'd chime in. "We thought, maybe if you sat down and talked, you could find a way to move past this."

Harry crossed his arms. Draco could see the anger flashing in his green eyes, could see the tension in his jaw as he clenched down. "You and I are going to have to have a talk Draco."

"Yeah, figured as much." He moved away, not out of fear, but because it was part of the plan. "We can talk after you and Weasley talk."

"Like hell, we will." Ron started walking toward the door. "You can both just get the hell out." He reached for the knob, but for some reason his hand kept missing. He would go to grab it and was either pushed back or his hand would just go straight through. After a moment of glaring at the door, he spun back towards Hermione. "What is this?"  
Hermione had her wand out, tapping it lightly against her left palm. "We're staging an intervention, gentlemen."

Draco nodded. "Hermione and I both think this has gone long enough." He ignored Weasley's indignant "_Don't call her that!" _"We're going to give you some time to talk."

Harry was watching Hermione and Draco, arms still crossed. "I assume there are some rules?"

Hermione nodded. "No leaving this room. You can try, but I've spelled it." Ron glared at his wife and did indeed try to leave, face smashing as he ran into an invisible wall. "No fighting. I've a spell for that, if you want to try."

Harry sighed. "I believe you." He warily looked at Weasley. "What happens if we _don't _get past this.

"Harry please," Hermione sounded desperate. "Ron. Can't you just try?"

Weasley was pacing. "I'm not going to discuss anything with Harry, not as long as that damned, slimy, sneaking Slytherin is in the room."

"Slytherin?" It had been years since anyone had called Draco by his school house name. It seemed so juvenile. He might have even laughed, if not for Harry's warning.

"Don't you dare." Harry looked him in the eye.

That stopped him. He didn't want to make this more difficult than it had to be anyway.

Hermione sighed. "Draco and I will have some tea in the sitting room. We'll give you an hour and come back."

Ron tried to reach Hermione, but the spell held him back. He looked genuinely worried. "You can't, 'Mione. You can't trust him."

"Ron, do you honestly think I can't handle Draco Malfoy?" She glanced at him from the side of her eye, grinning. "I could always just hit him again."

"It's a lovely right hook." Draco quipped back.

Weasley looked exasperated. Harry, well, Harry looked slightly resigned. Hermione gave a sympathetic look to both of them. "Sorry. Really we are." She motioned for Draco follow her, glad that he was on the other side of the barrier by the banging. He looked behind him. Weasley was hitting an invisible wall with both his hands.

"I swear, Malfoy, you better keep your filthy Slytherin scales off her."

That irritated Draco. He had never been prone to physical violence in his entire life. And there it was again: Slytherin. It was like Weasley saw him as some caricature. An evil Slytherin, through and through instead of just another person. "You know, Weasley, you need to grow up." He saw a bit of surprise in Weasley's face. "For one, this has nothing to do with me _or _you. It's about Harry." Draco felt his expression soften as he gazed at Harry. He was sitting now, a fierce scowl still on his face, but it too softened as he met Draco's stare. "It's always about Harry." He turned back to Weasley, who was watching him with unconcealed curiosity. "Just, try and fix it and stop being such a stubborn git." He spun away without waiting to hear the reply.

Hermione had waited just a few feet down the hall and motioned for him to follow her into a side room. It was well lit with a warm yellow light. A small beige chair and a half was under a window. Yellow flowers was definitely a theme. There were four slip chairs with matching floral upholstery. Though the space was full with different furniture, desks, and drawers and a couple of bookshelves, it gave the room a homey feeling instead of a claustrophobic one. There were several pictures in frames, on the walls, on the furniture. Even the rug was bright and cheerful. It was all together too feminine for Draco, but seeing as his host _was _a woman, he complimented the room anyway.

"Thank you," replied politely to him. She sat at a chair and began to pour tea. "How do you want it?"

It had been years since Draco had tea prepared for him this way. Usually he just ordered it from a cafe. "Just a lemon, please." In the silence Draco could hear raised voices from the other room. It wasn't quite yelling, but it was heated. He accepted his tea and paced around the room, too nervous to sit. He gravitated toward the pictures. Some were moving, like the traditional wizard images, but others were of the still muggle fashion. Hermione was quiet, though he could tell she was watching him. One picture caught Draco's eye. Hermione, in a white flowing bridal gown and Weasley standing next to her, proud as could be. He didn't understand the attraction, but could see the happiness in their eyes. Her dress kept tugging at a memory. He lightly picked the frame up off the decorative desk, eyeing it closer. Ah, the pattern, the design, he remembered it now.

"It's a Drake Black Design," Hermione offered.

Draco nearly laughed, but managed to keep his face straight. "Yeah, the Tulip line, if I'm not mistaken." He set the frame back where he got it. "You look beautiful in it.

Hermione looked embarrassed, cheeks turning rosy. "Thanks. How do you know the name of the design?"

Draco sipped his tea, contemplating. He could still hear Weasley and Harry loudly talking from the other room, so he decided to continue distracting himself. "What do you know of Drake Black?"

"I don't know. Twenty four, lives in London, not much is known about him. He comes from a wealthy family, but doesn't really associate with them anymore. Gay, but then, most in the fashion world are. Blond, tall, successful…" Her eyes started to widen as Draco tried to keep his smile behind his tea cup. "No! You!? But I've seen pictures of Drake Black!" She rolled her eyes. "Oh, yes, I can see it now."

"I'm surprised Harry never mentioned it."

Hermione laughed. "That makes sense now. He nearly passed out when I suggested he wear a Drake Black Design."

Draco echoed the laugh, choosing to sit next to Hermione; the tea table between them. "It was a good eye."

"I love your stuff." Hermione confessed. "Actually, so does Ron, even if he says it's too fancy for him.

"Do me a favor, don't tell him. I'd hate to see your wedding dress go up in flames because of me."

"He wouldn't!"

Draco just shrugged. It didn't take long for him to be back on his feet, pacing the room. He was nervous, and though he didn't usually pace when nervous, he had no other outlet for his nerves. Sometimes he painted or drew, or sew, but here he was painfully idle. He went back to the pictures. There were some of Hermione and Ron on a holiday. There were some with Hermione and what he assumed were her parents. They had a pleasant muggle look about them. He had no idea what a dentist was, but nodded when Hermione offered the information. Then one particular picture on the wall caught his eye. From the ridiculous amounts of red haired people, he knew it was from a Weasley family gathering. Hermione was there, and so was Harry. His dark hair and green eyes made him stand out from the rest of the fairer images. They were all posing, smiling, the image replaying. Harry had his arm around the youngest Weasley, Ginny. It brought a strange pang of jealousy, even though Draco knew this picture to be taken years ago.

Hermione came to stand by him. "That was a few years ago. Ron and George had just opened a new store."

Draco reached out and traced Harry's face with his fingertip, just now noticing how _sad _those green eyes were, even though he was smiling. There were a few things wrong with that picture Harry. He was thinner in the picture, but not in a pleasant way. Even his smile was off. It was a smile that Draco _had _seen before. Harry used it when he had to be polite, even when he'd rather be screaming. He glanced at Hermione. "He looks so sad here."

"How?" She shook her head, deciding not to finish her question. "Yeah, he and Ginny were in a rough spot. They broke up not long after." She appraised him, a bit of admiration in her eyes. "You pay attention to him, don't you?"

Draco was a little offended. "Of course I do!"

Hermione smiled. "I didn't mean it like that, but I'm glad." She paused. "Can you still hear them?"

"Yes. Not as loud, but they're still talking."

"That's good, right?"

"I suppose."

He went back to perusing the images, but since no more contained Harry they weren't enough to keep his interest. Eventually he sat back next to Hermione, pouring them both more tea. Life worked in strange ways. As a young adult he never thought he'd be sitting in a room with Hermione Granger (Weasley he corrected since Harry wasn't there) in her own home, having tea, while their significant others argued in the other room. Young adult Draco wouldn't have even known where to start. Yet, Draco had a hard time complaining. He knew Harry would be cross with him, knew that there would be some choice words that he'd have to accept, but Harry's reaction earlier gave him hope. It was like Harry grasped what he and Hermione were trying to accomplish, even if he didn't appreciate their methods. As for Hermione, he imaged it must have taken a lot to plot against her husband. For some reason, maybe he was just trying to engage in conversation, he remembered Hermione's problem with the dwarves. "Ever figure out that language?"

"Yes!" She brightened. "Thank you so much." Hermione launched into a detailed explanation of using the language to solve the riddle. It was engaging, Draco supposed, and made a good show of paying attention, but really, he was distracted by not knowing what was going on in the other room. Half was curiosity, half was concern.

He had been listening to Hermione prattle for a while when he heard an unexpected noise. "Wait, wait. Shhh, listen."

Hermione stopped speaking mid word, tilting her head.

"There!" Draco hadn't been sure the first time, but there was no mistaking now.

"They're laughing!" Hermione jumped up, a large smile on her face. "They're laughing!"

Draco listened as Harry laughed and then a few moments later, so did Weasley.

"Should we go see?" Hermione looked nervous, but Draco nodded, setting his tea down.

He quietly led the way down the hall and back into the living room. He was a little confused, and it took his brain a minute to make sense of the scene. Both Harry and Weasley were sitting on the floor, feet stretched out under a small coffee table. There were two shot glasses and a mostly empty bottle of whiskey, and from the looks of it, plenty of spilled alcohol on the tabletop. Weasley was leaning against a recliner chair laughing raucously. Harry was half bent over his arm, his other hand loosely holding an empty shot glass.

Hermione gasped. "What in the world?" It caused Weasley to laugh harder until he fell over, a short distance since he was already sitting.

Draco made his way to Harry and knelt down, balancing on one knee. He lifted Harry's fringe from his forehead. "Alright there, Harry?"

"Draco! Hi." His eyes were having trouble focusing on him and his speech was slurred, but Draco was relieved to see him still conscious.

"Hi. You alright?" He tried again, sitting down the rest of the way.

Weasley scrambled his way back to the table. "Course he is! Harry, he's," he hiccuped, "he's my best mate! Right Harry?"

"Right!"

"We've just been playing a game." Weasley seemed just slightly more sober than Harry, who had yet to lift his head all the way off the table.

Hermione came closer, frowning at the scene. "A game? What kind of game?"

Weasley grinned sheepishly. "How many different ways to insult each other. You know, git."

"Prat," Harry chimed in.

"Wanker." Then Weasley was laughing again, and so was Harry.

"Uh!" Hermione was indignant. "And how was that supposed to help anything?"  
"Dunno," slurred Harry. "Did though."

"Yeah!" Weasley slammed a drunken hand on the table. The shot glasses rattled and fell over and the whiskey would have too if Draco hadn't grabbed it.

Draco was actually amused. As long as this sealed the rift between them. "Did you use idiot?" He offered.

"Draco! Don't encourage them!"

Weasley laughed. "Why didn't we use that one, Harry?"

Harry managed to lift his head, glaring a bit at Draco. "I dunno. He calls me it all the time."

Weasley snatched the bottle from Draco's hand and was already pouring two shots. Harry eyed it warily, reaching for it, but Draco grabbed the shot glass from the table. "I'll take one for the team." Harry had definitely had enough to drink for one night. Draco was expecting the whiskey to burn, but was pleasantly surprised when the whiskey was high quality. He was able to drink it without coughing.

Weasley was watching him carefully, studying him. There was even a hint of respect in his eyes. He took his shot, turning his empty glass upside down on the table.

Harry made a little moan and sat up, only to fall sideways against Draco. Draco held him steady and shook his head, exasperated, but with a smile anyway. "Idiot." Harry smacked him on the arm, but it was weak and effectual. It made Weasley laugh again. Harry was often adorable when he was being an idiot. It didn't take long before Harry's eyes closed and he started to doze. Draco kept an arm around his waist, it was all that kept Harry from dropping to the ground.

Weasley seemed to watch this too. "He loves you, you know."

Strange how it came out like an accusation. At the same time, Draco briefly closed his eyes. Harry's love, it was sometimes too strong for Draco. He opened his eyes and nodded. "I know." He paused. He felt he needed to be honest at this moment, transparent. Like this was the _one _moment he had to forge a friendship with Ronald Weasley. He'd never even said his feelings out loud to Harry, but he could tell Weasley was waiting for him to say something more. Draco couldn't say it. Not to Weasley. Instead, he glanced down at the Harry's sleeping face. "I love him too."

Hermione came and sat on the chair behind Ron, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We all love him. Isn't that enough? We can do this, if it's for Harry."

Ron frowned, and made a face like it was hard to think. He reached for the whiskey and downed the rest straight from the bottle, wiping his mouth with a grimace. He sighed, but then reached out a hand toward Draco. "Not sure if I'll ever _like _you, but I'm willing to try if you are."

Draco shook the hand. "Deal." He had enough friends anyway. His original purpose wasn't to become friends with Ron and Hermione (though he was quickly rethinking his position on the later), but rather just be less antagonistic.

Ron nodded his head once, and then, as if he suddenly ran out of steam, fell over and started snoring on the carpet. Hermione shook her head. "What are we going to do with them?"

"Get them to bed. Get them some water. Have any feverfew and ginger root?"

Hermione nodded. "Let me get some."

Draco watched her run out of the room. He lightly shook Harry until green eyes slowly opened. "You going to be able to drink some feverfew?" Harry made a gagging motion and Draco laughed. "That _will _be you, unless you can drink it."

"You take it." Harry rearranged himself so he was sitting in Draco's lap, ignoring Draco's protests.

"Not how it works, love."

Harry grew still, hands squeezing and un-squeezing Draco's shirt. "Draco…" He was unable to finish, but he was staring up at Draco with an almost desperate longing.

Draco forgot he was in company for a minute and kissed Harry. He could taste the whiskey, but he could taste Harry too. Harry responded to him, but it was messy and sloppy. Draco placed a soft kiss on Harry's nose and then bent forward, head to head. "You know I love you, Harry."

There was a shocked squeak beside him, and Draco looked up. Hermione was looking away, face bright red, holding a bag to him. "Um, sorry. Here."

Draco smiled and put the bag into his pocket. When he glanced down Harry was asleep again, resting in the nook between his chest and elbow. Ron was still on the floor and Draco met Hermione's gaze. He gestured toward Ron with his chin. "Need help getting him to bed?"

Hermione shook her head and twirled her wand. "No. I can manage." She gestured toward Harry. "What about you?"

Draco got to his knees and then rocked backward to his feet, holding Harry steady with his hands. "I've got him." He picked Harry up, he dangled like a rag doll, head lulled to his chest. "Ironically, this isn't the first time I've had to do this." Draco shook his head and Hermione covered her mouth to keep from laughing. "I suppose we can talk tomorrow. Think it was a success?"

She was nodding. "Hopefully they remember being friends again when they wake up."

"True." Draco fumbled until he found his wand, using his knee to brace Harry. "Goodnight, Hermione."

"Goodnight, Draco."

Draco apparated into his flat. Harry moaned, hiding his face from the dim oven light left on in the kitchen. "Stop moving," he mumbled.

"Sorry." Draco kept walking anyway, but tried to take smaller, smoother steps. He managed to get Harry on the bed. He fell back with a thud. "Don't fall asleep just yet." Draco pinched Harry's leg through his jeans. He was quickly trying to get Harry ready for bed, shoes off, pants off. He sat Harry up and pulled his shirt off. "Night clothes or no?" Harry just made an irritated sound and tried to climb into bed. "Hold on." Not willing to leave Harry alone, he summoned a glass of water from the kitchen and added half the feverfew and ginger to it. He held the glass from the rim and spun it, trying to mix the roots. "Here, drink this."

Harry glared at the water, but went ahead and drank it. "There. Can I sleep now?"

Draco held up his hands in defeat and Harry climbed into bed. He barely put his head down and he was asleep. Even with feverfew and ginger Draco hazarded a guess he was still going to be sick. He'd never known Harry to drink a lot. He began straightening Harry's things, picking up his shoes and placing them in front of Draco's closet. Draco slipped off his shoes too, putting them properly away _in _the closet. He thought about that for a moment, glancing back at Harry and then his closet. Harry usually just kept a few things here, one or two outfits, pajamas. But why not just move _all _his things here? It was a shocking idea. Draco had never wanted to share a living place before. Harry could have half the closet, Draco was fine with using the armoire if he needed more space. The idea made him illogically happy.

He continued to undress, putting his sweater and pants back onto hangers. He hadn't done anything to get them dirty. Just as he was pulling on his night pants Harry bolted from the bed and ran into the bathroom. Draco cringed as he heard him throwing up. Only for Harry would he bother offering any help. If this had happened to another lover Draco would have left. Instead, he made the short walk to the bathroom. Harry was on the floor flushing the toilet, looking rather green and listless. Draco grabbed a washcloth and wet it with cool water. He sat next to Harry, who leaned against him, and dabbed at his face. They sat in silence.

A few moments later Harry was throwing up again, coughing and spitting. "You can go to bed," he said weakly, even though he allowed Draco to wipe his face with the cool washcloth again.

"I know." But he didn't go. He stayed with Harry for the next hour as Harry did his best to purge his system of the whiskey. When after twenty minutes Harry made no more attempts to throw up, Draco helped him up. "Come one, rinse your mouth. I'll give you some more medicine and then you can go to sleep." Harry didn't argue with him, just leaned on him for support as Draco made him do everything he said.

Bright morning light and movement woke Draco from sleep. He had a bit of a headache and a kink in his neck, which he tried to work out by stretching. Blinking, he noticed Harry's bag on the bed; a small pile of toiletries next to it and some belongings already packed. Curious, Draco eased out of bed. "Harry?"

Harry came in from the living room. His hands were full with a couple of jackets and a pair of boots which he dumped unceremoniously in the bag. He glanced at Draco, but turned away, his expression closed off, unreadable. Without saying anything he started looking through the drawers for something.

The curiosity turned to alarm. "Harry, what are you doing?"

He pulled out a sweater, closing the drawer. "I'm going to work, and then I'm going back to my place."

Draco found himself next to Harry, staring at the packing, but not quite sure if he believed his ears or eyes. "What? Why?" He tried to touch Harry's arm, but Harry shook him off.

"Why? _Why? _Draco you lied to me."

"I didn't…" Harry spun around, green eyes flashing. It was angriest he'd seen Harry in a long time and the rest of his sentence died unfinished. He watched as Harry tried to regain control of himself, taking a few deep breaths before he went back to packing. Fear starting to creep into Draco's veins. He knew Harry would be mad at him, but figured they'd talk it out. Harry leaving was his worst nightmare, but he never _really _thought it was a remote possibility. Not sure what he was doing, he grabbed Harry's bag and pulled it away. "Wait. I thought we were doing this your way. You know? Where we _talk _about things and not run away."

Harry reached and grabbed his bag back. "Talk? How are we supposed to talk if you lie to me." He dumped the toiletries into the bag. "And I'm not running."

Draco gestured around him. "Then what are you doing? Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you the whole truth. I just wanted to help."

The bag zipped shut with a finality that rattled Draco's core. Here he was just wishing Harry would move in with him, and now he was forced to watch as Harry left. Harry turned away, but didn't make any movements toward the door. Draco couldn't see his face, couldn't see what he was thinking. He saw Harry take a deep breath before turning back towards him. "I know. I understand that, hell I can even appreciate it, but…"

"But?"

"Draco, can you promise never to lie to me again?"

Draco knew he should say yes. That was the only option that he saw that ended well, and yet, well, he knew it wasn't true. If he had to lie, cheat, steal to protect Harry, he probably would. No, definitely would. He wasn't sure when he started to have those feelings, but knew that he couldn't answer Harry's question in good faith.

Harry knew it too, seeing right through Draco's silence. "That's what I thought." He picked up the bag strap and slung it over his shoulder. "I either have to accept that or…"

"Or?" Draco was doing his best not to panic. His entire world felt like it was spiraling out of control, like he was standing next to an abyss and one careless step would send him careening over and into its depths.

Harry paused, dropping the bag and moving to stand before Draco, who had sat on the edge of the bed. There was a guarded tenderness in his eyes and he held Draco's hands. "I have to learn to accept that." He amended. He squeezed Draco's cold fingers and then released them. "But I can't do it here. Not when I'm so angry at you. You had a week to sort out your priorities, give me a day or two."

"A day or two?" Draco knew he sounded stupid echoing Harry's words, but his brain wasn't doing a good job of thinking.

Harry leaned forward and kissed Draco's cheek, quick and brief, before grabbing his bag and heading toward the door. Draco was in a kind of shock. The further Harry went, the colder he got. Harry was his sun, his warmth. He rushed to the living room, hand outstretched. "Harry, wait."

But Harry just gave him a small smile and a shake of the head. "Just, be patient Draco, though I know it's not your strongest quality. I'll...I'll see you in a few days." And then, just like that, he slipped out of Draco's flat.

Draco was doing his best to listen to the meeting, he really was. He was trying to listen to Brian's strategies and ideas for Monday's show. What needed to change, what worked in New York, what didn't. How they all, models, stylists, everyone, were a team. Blah blah blah. Part of Draco knew he was doing it again, knew he was withdrawing into depression, but it was midday on Friday and he hadn't heard from Harry. That absence was starting to consume him and he struggled to maintain some perspective. Harry had asked for time; it was more than what he had done when he just up and left. He owed it to Harry to honor this request, but it was difficult. Anytime Draco had something to share with Harry, he wasn't there. Anytime he wanted to ask Harry a question, he wasn't there. His flat, which once seemed so spacious, now just felt too large; lonely, empty.

And then there was the physical absence. Draco woke in the middle of the night, reaching and searching for Harry before remembering that he wasn't there. It left an ache that made him curl on his side, hand straying to Harry's side of the bed. Sometimes when Draco wasn't focused on particularly anything he could imagine himself back at that forest dream. There, at least, he found a sense of peace. Harry's presence permeated that forest, and though Draco couldn't see him, just imagining him kept some of his darker thoughts at bay.

His darkest thought circled around the idea that Harry would never come back. The pain that thought brought him was excruciating. He wasn't even able to plan for this possibility; it was like his mind was paralyzed. Blinking, he realized he was still at a meeting, but had long since stopped paying any attention. Without saying a word he stood, and as quickly as he could made his way to his office. Brian was calling after him, but Draco ignored him. They could talk later, not in front of a crowd. Right now, Draco had to get away from prying eyes before he broke down.

He thought his office would offer some respite, some security, but he found himself pacing from one side of the narrow room to the other. That forest dream was still with him, he couldn't get the image out of his head. Frowning, he made the few steps to his filing cabinet and pulled out his watercolors and paper. Too lazy, or maybe just too depressed, he pushed most of the papers and designs straight off his desk and onto the floor. Normally that would have driven him crazy. Instead, he conjured some water glasses, squeezed some paints on a palette and for the first time in a long time lost himself in the process of painting.

An untold time later, Brian was standing beside him, shaking him. "Hey. You alright?"

Draco wasn't sure if he was really asleep, or just dazed, thoughts a mile away. He sat up, unaware he had even put his head down. "No," Draco answered honestly, "but I'm working on it."

"You and Harry have a fight?"

"Sort of." Draco let his fingers lightly touch the forest he had just painted. The paint was still wet, leaving a trace of green on his fingertips.

Brian was quiet, studying Draco's painting. "A landscape? You haven't done those in a long time." Draco just shrugged, not wanting to share his sentimentality. Brian continued his critique. "This reminds me of you two."

"Of who? Me and Harry?"

Brian nodded. "Here, all the green, the trees, the plants." He pointed to various spots on the painting. "Green like Harry's eyes. And here," he pointed to the sky, "silver. Like yours." He assessed the painting, titling his head this way and that. "It's well done."

"Thanks."

"You and Harry going to be ok?"

"Yeah, yeah. It's nothing." Draco didn't want to dwell on the fact that he had no idea _when _or _if_ Harry was coming back. He changed the topic. "So, how's it looking for Monday."

Brian frowned, like he wasn't completely fooled by Draco's change of tone, but decided to answer anyway. They spent a better half of an hour discussing important points from the meeting that Draco missed. (There were a lot.)

Around nine at night Draco found himself home, alone, on his couch. Add insult to injury, Harry had taken their book and Draco found himself without anything to do. He was tired, strung out, and yet unable to make himself go to bed. It was too quiet in there, too dark, and too...lonely. Still, he was tired. He kicked off his shoes and stretched out on his couch, trying to push away the longing he had for Harry. Give him time. If Draco couldn't promise his absolute honesty, he had to at least honor the request for time. But time was his enemy. Tick, tick, tick. He didn't even _own_ a clock that made that noise, but it was so silent he could hear his wrist watch lying discarded on the coffee table. Tick, tick, tick. Eventually, it lulled him to sleep.

A warm touch on his cheek woke him up. At first he thought he was dreaming. Harry was on his knees, both hands touching him. Draco blinked, sitting up. Harry stayed where he was, letting his hands drop to his knees.

"Hey."

"Hey."

Then they were both talking at once.

"Harry, I'm sorry." "I'm sorry too." "I didn't want you to leave." "I know." "I didn't mean to lie." "You did it for a good reason."

Draco slid off the couch and reached for Harry. The two embraced, laughing, arms holding tight. Having Harry back in his arms was like drinking water after a drought, like eating after a fast, it filled all the empty holes in his soul. He pulled back, lifted Harry's chin and kissed him. It was like being whole again. Harry moved with him, tongue to tongue to cheek and Draco really didn't care if he breathed again. Even when his lungs burned for air, he wasn't ready to part, but he did. Placing smaller kisses on Harry's cheeks, holding his face in his. Then, he said what he had been meaning to say for awhile now. "I love you, Harry."

Harry's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in surprise before turning into a huge smile. "I love you too." He rearranged his legs so he was resting against the couch. "I'm sorry, Draco. I shouldn't have left like that."

Draco held no ill will. "You gave me more warning than I gave you."

"That doesn't actually make me feel better." He wore a guilty expression, a bit of frown.

"Did it help, though?" Draco hoped it did; he hoped Harry's presence here was proof that Harry had come to grips with his struggles and was back to stay.

"It helped," he sighed, letting his head fall back on the couch. Draco trailed his fingers down Harry's exposed neck, glad to once again have physical contact. Harry's hand held his and he sat back up. "I at least came to a pretty firm conclusion."

"What was it?"

Harry grinned. "That no matter how infuriating you are, I'd rather be here with you, than anywhere else without you." He finished his speech by reaching for Draco and kissing him again.

And then Draco was tugging Harry to his feet, pulling him down the hall. He was walking backward, unable to keep his eyes off Harry, and Harry followed Draco's every movement as well. Draco grabbed him as they entered the dark room, kissing him. It was fiery and passionate, nothing held in reservations. Hands were pulling shirts off, shoes were being kicked off, followed by pants and whenever he could Draco had his mouth over Harry's. Harry responded by using his hands, teasing an already aroused Draco. They found the bed in the dark, skin against skin, mouth against mouth, swept up in passion. Draco was busy using his own hands on Harry, who was breathing deeply, fingers holding the sheets in a tight grip. Draco used a free hand, following the shape of Harry's body in the dark until he found his neck, his mouth, and while still pleasuring Harry, kissed him. That nearly sent Harry over the edge, gasping as Draco deepened both the pressure of his hand and his kiss.

Draco was breathless as well, "I've missed you, Harry." Hearing his name whispered so deliciously did make Harry come, crying out and thrusting into Draco's hands. Draco was in a sultry mood, kissing him again, and Harry was all hands, wanting more of Draco, wanting to feel more. Draco obliged, moving inside Harry as Harry cried out again. Draco kissed him deeply, moving as Harry moved. "_Harry…" _He could feel Harry all around him, surrounding him, his legs, his arms, his body and Draco felt a familiar feeling welling up in him along with his climax. It was the same feeling he had when he watched Harry sleep, the same feeling he had when he held him and made love to him like now. It was a feeling that Draco was starting to identify as his love for Harry. He _loved_ Harry, and he let that feeling wash over him as he climaxed, holding on to Harry as Harry held onto him, body shaking as he found his release.

Draco felt the strange pull out of his consciousness and into the forest realm a split second before the scenery emerged. For the first time, Harry was there with him, still holding him, though now they were standing instead of lying on their bed and there was no evidence of their recent sex. The forest was in spring. The different trees and plants were full of buds. The air was humid, but cool. Draco took a deep breath, and with a free hand caressed a leaf that seemed to reach out for him.

Harry kept an arm around his waist, but also reached for a plant, delicately rubbing it between his fingers. "Draco, what is this place? Why does this keep happening?"

Draco gazed about him in wonder. A nearby flower burst into bloom. Both he and Harry watched as a beautiful blue flower unfolded it's petals. "I think it's a spirit realm," Draco finally answered. He didn't know how to explain it better than that. He'd only read of spirit realms in theory anyway; never expected to experience one.

Harry was quiet, a slight frown on his brow, but eventually he nodded. "Alright. Why does it keep happening?"

Draco reached out with his mind. He could almost feel and see the forest responding to him, though he didn't have any idea what he was doing. He was hyper aware of Harry's presence. Each breath he took, each movement, even the beat of his heart. Draco could sense all of it. A quiet counterpart to his own. He kissed Harry again, lightly and traced the shape of his face down to his neck. "I don't know." he put a finger over Harry's lips, "I don't know if I care either." The forest took that as its cue to fade away. He and Harry were back in their room, standing with their arms around each other.

Harry held him, rubbing his back and after a few moments, bent down so he could see Draco's face, which had been resting on his shoulder. He put his hands on both sides of Draco's face and kissed him lightly. "Why not?"

Draco closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of Harry's hands on him. "I don't need the answers to the Universe, Harry. I just need you."

"I need you too." Those four little words. It was Harry's way of saying he'd come back for good, that Draco was forgiven, that what they had wasn't destroyed.

Draco was kissing Harry again. In no time it turned more passionate. He hadn't had enough of Harry anyway. Maybe, he'd never get enough. He pushed his hands through Harry's hair and pressed into him, moving slightly up and down against his naked body. He felt Harry responding to him, hardening against him, matching his own arousal. Harry sighed into his kisses, hands moving down Draco's back resting on his arse, pulling him closer. They took small steps toward the bed, careful not to put too much space between them. The back of Draco's knees hit the bed and he fell backward. Harry didn't fall all the way, putting a hand out to support him. The other was touching Draco. Draco sighed, threw his head back, responding as Harry's lips touched his. Bright green eyes, even in the dark, met his own. "Merlin, Draco, you're gorgeous." They kissed again, but briefly. Harry indicated for Draco to move up on the bed, and he did, head resting on a pillow, but eyes always watching Harry's shadowing movements. "Draco…" it was half desire, half request. Draco wasn't sure what Harry was asking, but then Harry lowered himself onto Draco. They both gasped. Draco held as still as he could as Harry inched Draco further and further inside him. Draco licked his lips and held onto the sheets, already in a bit of ecstasy. Then Harry started to move. The pleasure was too intense, spots started to dance across Draco's eyes. Harry was gasping, moaning, up and down, up and down, slow, slow, sometimes fast, and then slow. It was tortuously agonizing pleasure. Draco arched his back, losing himself; it must have done something because Harry shuddered, leaning forward, climaxing. That was nearly what Draco was waiting for. He held Harry's sides and started thrusting, deep. He was lost in a rhythm, in sensations, in Harry. Harry leaned back, and oh, Draco found he was able to move deeper. He followed Harry, sitting up, face to face, moving inside Harry, Harry holding on to him, making delicious sounds in his throat until all of it became too much to hold in. With a violent shudder he came, thrust after thrust inside Harry who held him tightly with his arms and legs until Draco had nothing left, except trembles. Breathing deeply, Harry brushed Draco's sweaty hair out of his face and kissed his salty lips.

"If, if that's what happens when I leave for a couple of days, maybe I should do it more often."

Draco, spent, but not wanting to completely separate, pulled Harry down to the bed, legs and arms still around him. "No." He squeezed him. "For you, I can do that anytime."

He felt Harry's lips turn up into a smile against his chest. He made to move, but Draco held him firm. "We're messes!" Harry protested halfheartedly.

"I wouldn't care if it was mud. Stay where you are." He could imagine Harry thinking and he stroked Harry's damp hair.

"I'll be right back," he finally said softly.

With great reluctance Draco released him. Harry's silhouette was barely visible in the darkness and a strong desire overcame Draco to actually _see _him. Crawling to the edge of the bed, he rifled through their discarded clothes until he found his pants. His wand was in the back pocket and he flicked it, quietly uttering a spell that sent tiny dim lights up towards the ceiling. Wand in hand he made his way back to the head of bed, eyeing his handy work. One year, before he got his Hogwarts letter, his parents had taken him to Germany for summer holiday. He didn't recall where they had gone exactly, only that it had been a mansion with sprawling grounds that put Malfoy Manor to shame. Draco still remembered how in awe he had been when the forest lit up that night; thousands of lights dancing in the darkness. Years later the memory inspired him to come up with this spell. The tiny lights hovered and floated like fireflies, casting the room in a subdued glow.

Harry came out of the bathroom, gazing around in that wide eyed look he got sometimes. "Nice."

"Thank you, now come back." Draco pointed to the empty space beside him and Harry smiled, climbing back into bed. He lay flat on his pillow, watching the lights dance on the ceiling, lips turned up in a grin. Draco turned on his side, head supported by his hand, elbow on the bed. He let himself gaze at Harry while brushing his fingers through his hair near the ear. Harry was a bit shorter than him, but well muscled with a gorgeous tint to his skin. Draco snuck a foot under Harry's leg, toes getting cold. Harry was always warm, and Draco loved it. Harry took a deep breath; a sigh of contentment, and Draco caressed his cheek, letting his hand drop to his stomach where he let it rest.

"Draco?" Harry asked turning on his side to face him. "When's your birthday?"

Draco was taken aback by the inquiry. "June 5th. Why?"

"Just curious." He reached for Draco's hand and placed it on his side, running his own hand back up Draco's arm until it rest on his shoulder. "What were your birthdays like?"

Draco hesitated, "I don't know Harry...I'm not sure I had very traditional birthdays."

He scooted the tiniest closer. "Tell me."

Draco sighed. He knew he had a reputation for being spoiled at Hogwarts, and he was, to a certain degree, but he also fostered a certain illusion. Growing up the son of Lucius Malfoy hadn't always been easy. Hell, it was _still _difficult being the son of Lucius Malfoy. "My birthdays were more about my parents celebrating an heir to their name and fortune than it was about me," he confided. "I remember one year, I must have been around eight or nine, the entire manor was full of people. All adults, no children. I basically had to stand in a corner all night while my mother and father pointed me out to their friends." Draco closed his eyes and tried to keep the hurt out of his voice. "Well, it taught me how to stand still."

"That's awful. I'm sorry."

Draco half shrugged. "It was what I knew. I didn't know any different until Hogwarts."

"At least you had a bit of ignorance then," Harry said with a sympathetic grin. "My cousin's birthday was a couple weeks before mine. My aunt and uncle spoiled him rotten. For the longest time he had two rooms full of just stuff! I lived under the cupboard and he had _two _rooms." Draco was surprised at the bitterness in Harry's voice, unused to him showing such an emotion. "I use to watch as he would get cakes and presents and every year I hoped I'd get _something_." He gave a laugh that sounded like he was laughing at himself. "I should have known better. One year I made a cake out of dust on the floor, just so I could say happy birthday to myself."

"Merlin, Harry." Draco used his hand on Harry's side to pull him closer until he lay on top of him. "Well, what would you like to do for your birthday this year?"

Harry was quiet, but Draco could see he was thinking through the implications of his words. Draco planned to be with Harry long enough to plan for his birthday. Draco _actually _planned to be with Harry for many many birthdays, but he wasn't sure how to say that aloud. Sometimes his feelings for Harry were too strong, overwhelming, and he didn't want to frighten Harry off. Oh the irony! Draco Malfoy, the one who never got attached, was singularly devoted to the green eyed man in his arms.

"I think," Harry began a few minutes later, "that as long as we were together, I'd be happy."

Draco wrapped his arms tighter around Harry's back. "I can do that."

They lapsed into a peaceful silence, the spell lights' dance hypnotic. After several minutes, Draco began to doze off. Harry's quiet voice woke him up. "Did you have any pets?"

"Harry, what?"

"Pets? You know, dogs? Cats?"

Draco couldn't help himself. Maybe it was because it was late, maybe because it was the odd question, or maybe a combination, but he laughed. "No. My father hated animals. You?"

"Please." Harry answered sarcastically. "Although, I did have a spider living above my head once." And then they were laughing together. "Maybe our childhood wasn't so different after all."

Draco playfully flicked Harry's arm. "I at least had clothes that fit."

"Hey!"

Draco kissed Harry's nose and stretched for his wand. "Are you done playing Twenty Questions?"

"How do you even _know _that game?"

Draco grinned and whispered the counterspell for the lights. The room seemed even darker now. He set his wand down and sighed, enjoying the weight of Harry on his chest, their naked bodies together, their legs intertwined. Harry began to fidget and wiggle like he always did before settling back down against him. Even without light, Draco knew where Harry's spine was and he trailed his fingers up and down, up and down. The rhythm soothed Draco, filled him with peace.

Harry took a deep breath, bringing his arm up to rest on Draco's chest. "I'll give you forever to stop that," he said breathlessly, almost a purr. Draco smiled to himself and let his fingers continue their path, up and down, up and down. He began to doze, fingers slowing down until they stopped near the base of Harry's spine. Draco's eyes were closed and he was in that odd place where you knew you were about to fall asleep, but also knew you were awake. Harry chose that moment to ask another question. "What's your favorite color?"

"Harry!" Though the way Draco whispered his name in quiet exasperation the normal two syllables were dragged out much longer.

"Come on, last question, I promise."

Torn between irritation and amusement, Draco thought for a second. "I don't know, black."

"Black isn't a color!" Harry protested.

"It is at," Draco grabbed his wand and cast a quick _Tempus_, "2:30 in the morning." Instead of being chastised Harry laughed, though Draco had a feeling he was trying his best to hold it in. "Harry…" The irritation finally won out. Draco wanted to sleep even though he enjoyed having Harry in his arms. He was never the most pleasant person when he was overtired.

"Sorry." He didn't sound very sorry, but he took a deep breath and settled against Draco again. Draco was already falling asleep, satiated, safe, happy when Harry woke him again, but this time it was with a kiss at the base of his throat. "Goodnight, Draco...Good morning?"

"Whatever." He replied good naturedly.

Harry held him tight. "I love you."

"I love you too, Harry." And then there was only sleep, not even dreams. For Draco, his reality was sweeter than any dream.


	15. Chapter 15: New Foundations

**New Foundations**

Soft kisses woke Draco from sleep. They were tender, loving kisses and Draco opened his eyes to find Harry laying on top of him, already dressed, but hair still wet. With his fingers he brushed Draco' s hair back, held his face and gave him another kiss.

"I have to go in early today," he said caressing Draco's cheek and gazing at him with an open, honest expression. "So, I love you, and I'll see you later." With a twinkle in his eye, he kissed Draco's lips, rolled over and hurried out of the room.

Draco's brain took a few seconds to wake up but when it did, he jumped out of bed, grabbed his robe and made for the living room. Harry was still there, a piece of toast in his mouth as he put on a jacket. "Here?" He didn't mean for it to come out so clingy, but needed to know. Last night (or early this morning) had meant everything to Draco, he wanted to know if it meant the same for Harry.

Harry took the toast out of his mouth as he came closer to Draco, holding his cheek in his free hand. "Yeah, here. I have a question to ask you anyway." Draco looked expectantly, but Harry shook his head. "Later." He kissed Draco, a bit of jam flavoring still on his lips. "Its Valentine's Day," he said as he walked toward the door. "I'm going to be very late."

Draco leaned against the couch, smiling. "I'll wait up."

Harry paused at the door, grinning, before waving and continuing his toast as he closed the door behind him.

Shit. Valentine's Day. He had a basic inclination that this was a lover's holiday, but he really had no idea how one celebrated it. Draco had never been one for sappy romance, preferring to shag his lovers and then get on with his life. Hell, Steven had lasted a month and at the time Draco had been impressed with his long term commitment. Harry was different. Harry filled Draco's life with something irreplaceable. It made Draco want to try new things, new ways to express himself.

Draco made his way to the kitchen for coffee. There was a half a slice of toast on the counter and he munched on it as he thought. He knew Harry would be working late past midnight tonight. The restaurant's seating was full all night. So, today was a bust, but what about tomorrow? A plan was whirling in his brain. He finished the coffee and the toast, and went to shower.

Valentine's Day was a blessing and a headache for _Seven Thirty One_. A blessing because a single Valentine's Day was able to keep the restaurant in the black for the majority of the year. It was their busiest day, but add that it was on a Saturday and reservations had tripled. Harry had figured out a way to accommodate so many patrons years ago, setting the reservations apart so that people came in waves, not one large pool. It was a method that worked in the past, and it was a method that worked tonight. They were currently sitting the fourth and last wave at a quarter to twelve, surprisingly ahead of schedule. It was late, his crew was getting tired, but so far everything was going well. He often popped into the waiting area, flutes full of free champagne. It was a small expense. Most of the diners would easily spend more than what Harry was expending on champagne.

Finally the waiting room was empty and Harry locked the front door to bar anyone coming in. The restaurant was still buzzing, still full, but they wouldn't be taking anymore patrons tonight. He allowed himself a moment to look around, a little in awe. It had taken years, untold hours, thousands of dollars, and yet, here was his little restaurant. Not only was his professional life going well, but for the first time in years, so was his personal life.

Being with Draco had its own challenges; his stubbornness the greatest of them all, but Harry had told him the truth. Those two days he spent away from Draco had been hellish. All he'd done was _think_ about Draco anyway. A part of him had constantly been reaching out to him, longing for him, and even though Harry _had _needed the time to think, he knew he wouldn't be able to that again. The desire to be with Draco was all encompassing, a pull, a yearning . Harry thought at one time he could fight it, but then they had to have such amazing sex. Harry mentally shook his wasn't _just_ the sex. Harry was sure he loved Draco, might even be _in _love with him. Dealing with Draco's quirks was an easy trade. A waiter called for Harry's attention and his brief respite was over. The rest of the night his attention was on his customers.

He made it back to Draco's flat around three in the morning. The entire building was quiet. The doorman was slightly dozing as he waved Harry through. The entryway was mostly dark, only a few night lights on to keep the worst of the darkness away. Harry made his way to the flat and pushed for the penthouse floor. He was tired, yawning. Draco said he'd wait up, but Harry wouldn't hold it against him if he'd already gone to sleep. The lift pinged, Harry got off and made his way inside. The flat was dark and quiet; he made sure to keep it that way, slipping out of his shoes so they wouldn't make any noise on the hardwood floors. He was trying to make his way to the room as noiselessly as possible when Draco came around the corner. He was dressed for bed, a plain white cotton shirt and his black pants. It was a little strange seeing Draco in white, it washed him out.

A smile lit up Draco's face as he realized Harry was home. "Hey! How was the night?"

Harry stopped trying to be quiet and walked regularly toward him. "It was good." They embraced in the middle of room. "I didn't think you'd still be up."

Draco was helpfully unbuttoning his chef's jacket. "I've been dozing off and on. Here." He pulled the jacket off and threw it on the couch. On his shoulder was one of Harry's night shirts and he handed it to him, but not before running his hand over his bare stomach. "Want some tea?"

Harry shrugged into his shirt, blindly following Draco. "Yeah, that would be nice."

"Then bed. You look tired."

"I _am_ tired," Harry said with a laugh as he sat at the high table. Draco came over and kissed him before going back to the tea kettle. "I'm not complaining or anything, but I didn't get a full night's rest last night."

Draco gave him a half grin. The water was hot, Draco must have had it simmering, and he poured two cups, bringing them back to the table. He kissed Harry again. "Happy Valentine's Day."

"Happy Valentine's Day." He sipped his tea. "Though, I'm sorry I didn't get to spend it with you."

Draco brightened, like he was waiting for Harry to say something like that. "Well, maybe I can remedy that tomorrow. You free?"

"How could I say no? You should see the gleam in your eye." They finished their tea, Harry yawning.

"Come on." Draco took their cups and placed them in the sink. "Let's go to bed." Harry nodded and took Draco's hand.

Harry was thoroughly enjoying himself. He was stretched out on a white lounge chair on the deck of a sailing boat named _Marianna_. The sails snapped and furled as the wind cut through them, spray from the bow misted Harry. Though the day had started out dreary and foggy near the isle, wherever they were now was warm enough that Harry changed into a light cotton shirt and shorts. The sky and water were perfect mirrors of blue. White fluffy clouds above, small white caps below. Harry had hardly believed his eyes when Draco had apparated them to the docks. The seagulls and the salt in the air gave Harry an inkling as to what his lover was up to, but nothing had prepared him for the yacht they boarded. The sides of the boat were painted dark, black wood. The cabin and decks were of a lighter wood, but still it looked beautiful. Harry didn't know anything about boats, but he knew it looked expensive. Apparently Brian had some family wealth.

Draco was rather proud of himself. He had spent most of Saturday learning how to spell the boat and now flawlessly executed the magic. They were cutting smoothly across the water and Harry loved every moment of it. It reminded him a little of flying. Draco came behind him, setting a tray down between them before sitting on his own lounge. There were a few drinks on the tray, a small assortment of cheeses and fruits.

Draco was wearing a blue long sleeved shirt, but it was loose and open, lazily catching the wind, and a pair of khakis. It was surprisingly casual and attractive. He had his eyes closed, enjoying the day. With a grin, Harry quietly got out of his lounge and joined Draco on his. He had wanted to surprise him, but Draco seemed prepared for him, opening his arms like he was expecting it. His normally cool skin was warm and Harry kissed his chest. "You're going to get a sunburn."

"Worth it." He replied without opening his eyes. He scooted over, making enough room for Harry to lie comfortably on his side.

Content, Harry relaxed in Draco's embrace. The waves, the wind, the warmth, it all combined to form a sort of perfection. Glancing up, Draco had a grin on his lips, but otherwise he was still, basking in the sun. Harry settled back and soon found himself dozing.

Some time passed, it was hard to tell how long, but his stomach was rumbling. He stretched, sitting up. The sun was at a sharp angle, he had to shade his eyes. Draco was awake as well, casting a bit of magic. "We'll be back at the dock soon."

Harry nodded. "I was getting hungry anyway."

"Me too." Though by the way Draco was watching him, Harry had a feeling they were talking about a different hunger.

Although, the way Draco was watching him was making Harry hungry in a different way too.

They docked just as the sun was starting to set. It was still light, but the sky was more pinks and golds, not the bright blue of the day. Draco made a show of manually bringing the yacht in, but of course the magic did all the work. Once tied to the dock, they disembarked, carrying their things in a couple of totes. Draco said a few words to the dock hands and then caught up with Harry, who put an arm around his waist. "This has been the best day ever."

Draco looked smiled secretly, like he knew something that Harry didn't.

Harry grinned. "What?

Draco laughed, kissing him on the mouth. "Wait and see."

And no matter how hard Harry tried, Draco refused to say anymore.

Dinner started as an awkward affair. They ate at a bistro in a dark corner booth. The food was terrific, the wine was great. Draco was currently telling Harry a funny story. None of that made it awkward. What made it awkward was Draco's little game. What had Harry wanted to drink? He had no idea because he momentarily stopped thinking when Draco ran his toes up the middle of Harry's legs using the tablecloth to hide his actions. Draco ordered him a glass of wine with a knowing grin. For dinner? Draco had used a menu to hide what his hand was doing when the waitress came for their orders. His answer was somewhere between babble and sighs. Draco ordered for them, again with a grin. Harry hit him as the waitress walked away. "Stop that!" Draco laughed, but put some space between them.

The rest of dinner went without another incident, but Draco had done his job well. He had stoked a fire in Harry. He watched Draco with a barely contained passion. And Draco _knew _it. Drawing attention to his lips, his hands, using barely concealed innuendo. Harry was relieved no one was near them; it was damn near indecent. Draco paid the tab and they started to make their way home.

_Home._ That reminded of the question he wanted to ask Draco. More and more he came to think of Draco's flat as _home_. The first night Harry spent back at his flat after his fight with Draco was a disaster. He kept waking up, reaching for Draco and then remembering that Draco wasn't there. Oddly enough he was more upset with himself in those moments than with Draco. After all, Draco had wanted to talk; Harry was the one that needed to leave. Now Harry's apartment had a taint to it. It was the place without Draco. The place without good memories. Just...a place. Draco's flat had everything that was dear to Harry. Namely: Draco, but it also had the larger kitchen. A chef's kitchen! And it had a fireplace and the view of the city was amazing. The bedroom was larger (the shower was larger) and it just seemed enough space for them both. His lease was up in a month and Harry hoped that Draco would like the idea of living together as much as he did. Even if it was soon.

A hand slipped in his back pocket, slowing him down. "You got quiet." Draco made it sound like a question, a concern.

The tall building was in site, a dim light was barely visible from their penthouse floor. Harry put his arm around Draco's waist. "I was just wondering…."

"Wondering?"

Harry paused and decided to face Draco. "How you might feel about us living together."

Harry was expecting some shock on Draco's expression. Instead, it was warm and loving and Harry wanted to just drown in those deep pools of silver. Draco rested a hand on Harry's neck. "I would love that. I was going to ask you anyway."

"Really?"

"Really." He lightly kissed Harry's cheek. "Now come on. I have one more Valentine's Day present for you."

Harry let Draco lead them through the door into the hotel lobby. The doorman gave them an uneasy smile. He was an older chap, tufts of white hair escaping the sides his hat by his ears. One on one he was amiable to Harry, but the few times he saw Harry and Draco displaying public affection the conversation became stilted. Harry thought that it was a conflict of interest. The old man enjoyed talking to Harry (who knew about Draco), but was uncomfortable with their relationship. Still, Harry supposed it was a fact of life he was going to have to live with.

The lobby always caught Harry's eye. Draco's flat was so modern, a mixture of marble, onyx, leather; sleek designs that were subtly masculine, like Draco himself. In contrast, the lobby was homey. Lush carpets covered the floors; there was a mixed assortment of seats. Leather, brocade, suede, some hard backs others cushioned. Harry guessed it was to give actual guests a choice as they waited to check in and out. The walls were paneled in a dark wood, designs and pictures carved in relief. Harry knew of at least one fireplace. It was constantly burning (probably gas). Four steps led up to the landing where the concierge desk was. To the right were two lifts for guests, on the left was a single lift for residents. It required a code to access the upper floors.

Draco waved to the concierge and pushed for the lift. The toe of his shoe tapping the carpet. The lift doors opened and he ushered Harry in. The doors closed and Draco pushed him up against the lift walls. Harry's adrenaline spiked, heart beat increasing as Draco leaned into him, looking down at him with a smoldering fire in his eyes. He made to kiss Harry, but just let his lips brush his before pulling away, a gleam in his eye. One of his hands trailed down his side, but so light, like a butterfly's wings. Harry shivered. The lift arrived at their floor and with a devilish grin Draco backed away, crooking his finger for Harry to follow.

The living space had been magically transformed. Gone was the furniture, and fireplace. In its space was a massive bathtub, nearly a small pool. There were four Greek columns by the corners that reached to the ceiling. Steam was rising from the water, as were bubbles from jets. Inside the pool their were some spots designed to lounge, some designed to sit. Two fluffy white towels were folded nicely near the water, but not too near. Harry was surprised the steam didn't make the whole room hot and humid. He turned to Draco, who was watching him, waiting for his reaction. "When did you have time to do this!"

Draco's lips turned up. "My secret, Harry. Ow, come here." He ignored Harry's playful smack and instead started unbuttoning his shirt with a single hand. The skill always impressed Harry. The other hand was resting on the small of Harry's back, not quite pushing them closer, but holding him steadily in place. After enough buttons loosened his collar Draco started placing light, breathy kisses on his chin, his neck, his collarbone. The sensation was different, whispers of lips just barely gracing his skin, like a secret that Draco was telling him and _only _him. His shirt was open, and with that same feather light touch Draco dropped it from his shoulders. For some reason Harry remained still, but his eyes followed Draco as he stripped from his own shirt and moved around Harry. Two cool hands snuck from behind, skimming Harry's chest, his abs, his stomach. Draco's touch made him feel like he was the center of the universe; nothing else mattered. He let his head fall back knowing Draco's chest would be there, savoring the sensations, enjoying the arousal he was feeling and relishing the feel of Draco's against him.

Draco kissed the spot where his neck and shoulder met, blindly undoing Harry's pants and sliding them down. "Let's test the water," he whispered. Harry shivered, goosebumps spreading across his body. He heard Draco slip out of his clothes, and one hand on Harry's stomach gently guided him toward the pool. Harry jumped in feet first. The water was hot, nearly three feet deep, and it felt great. He sunk down to his chin, turning to watch Draco gracefully slide in. Even after being out in the sun all day he was unnaturally white, nearly hairless; tall and slim and Harry let his eyes feast on his lithe muscles. He had no idea what Draco saw in him because compared to Draco he felt ordinary, basic.

Harry decided to voice his thoughts as Draco used his hands to splash the water on his arms. "Bloody hell, Draco. You know you're gorgeous, don't you?" Draco's answering smile said both "_Yes" _and "_Thank you". _He went back to acclimating to the water. For someone who was so cold all the time the water was probably very hot. Harry bit his lip. He didn't want to ruin their mood, because Draco looked so damned tempting, but he wanted to know. "What the hell do you see in me?"

His mouth was half open, like he was going to be quick to answer, but he paused, reading something in Harry's expression. "What do you mean, Harry?"

"I don't know." Harry wiped his face with a wet hand. "There's nothing particularly special about me, Draco, and I look at you and you're...you're perfect…" He choked on the last words, getting strangely emotional.

Draco made the few feet to him. "Don't be an idiot." He gazed into Harry's eyes. Harry wasn't sure what he saw there, but he touched his cheek, frowning. "You don't have a very clear image of yourself, do you?"

Harry shrugged. "Possibly not. I _did _spend my childhood in a cupboard."

Both of Draco's hands were resting on Harry's shoulders now. "I'm starting to hate your aunt and uncle." Harry tried to smile, but instead he wanted to turn away, embarrassed by his feelings. Draco held on to him. "Well, let me tell you what _I _see." He kissed Harry's eyelids. "You have the most amazing eyes."

"My mother's eyes," Harry repeated as if conditioned. It was always said to him, and yet it offered little comfort as he got older.

Draco shook his head. "No, they're _your_ eyes. Harry blushed, feeling foolish now that he started this conversation. Draco gently squeezed his shoulders. "And what do you mean, 'you're not special'? You're the One Who Lived!"

Harry hated that moniker. "But that's _Harry Potter._ I'm just Harry." He didn't know if he was making any sense. The defeat of Voldemort, saving the world, in many ways it always felt like someone else's accomplishments. Harry half the time didn't know what he was doing and toward the end of the war didn't even know if he was going to survive. And this was the first Draco had ever mentioned it and it tasted sour in the back of his throat. He didn't want Draco to be with because he was _that _Harry Potter.

Draco was watching him, listening to him. At first Harry thought he was going to argue with him, but no. Instead, he stepped closer, invading Harry's personal space. "You know that's not why I'm here, right?" It was like he could read his mind, or else Harry was awful at keeping his thoughts from showing on his face. Harry kept quiet, not trusting himself. Draco sighed, but it wasn't a frustrated sigh, or even an impatient sigh. He slid his right hand down from Harry's shoulder until it rested over his heart; Harry could feel it beating against the weight of his hand. "That is why I'm here, Harry, your heart." Almost in answer it started beating faster. "I've never known anyone who loves like you. And blind I'd still be drawn to you." His lips quirked up into a smile, "Though I much prefer looking at you."

"Draco...thank you," Harry finally said. It wasn't all he felt, those two words hardly scratched the surface of what Draco's words made him feel and think, but it was the only words he could think of.

Draco held him, smoothing down his hair, kissing his temple. "There. Not stop being an idiot and join me in relaxing. _Relaxing _Harry. Think you can handle that?"

Harry splashed him, drenching his hair so that it hung it wet strands on his face. His face was half shock, half outrage. Harry had just a moment's notice before Draco pounced on him, dunking him in the water in revenge. Harry came up sputtering, spitting out water. Draco's smug face was too much for him. He jumped on him and soon he and Draco were playfully wrestling in the pool, splashing, making a mess, yelling and laughing as they each tried to dunk the other. It was also a nice excuse to put his hands on Draco. Eventually they tired and found themselves lounging near a jet, arms out of the pool, Harry's left intertwined with Draco's right.

Draco tapped him, getting his attention. "Come to the Fashion Show tomorrow. It's the only day we're doing this week."

"I'd love to. But you know I won't have a clue what I'm looking at, right?"

"Oh, I know. I've seen your wardrobe."

"Hey!"

Draco's answer was a low laugh that Harry loved. The tone rumbled through his chest like a vibrating cord. Draco looked at his fingers, wrinkled and pruny. Harry knew Draco was close to being done. For some reason, Draco disliked having wrinkled fingers.

Harry glanced at him, content, relaxed. "You about ready to get out?" Draco nodded. "Come on, then." Harry jumped out first, reaching for a towel and wrapping it around his waist. Draco followed him, but instead of grabbing his towel walked to the kitchen, dripping wet. Wand in hand, he began a new spell, undoing the beautiful pool and returning the living room to the way it was. Harry watched, impressed as the pool sunk until it was smaller, smaller, smaller, poof gone. The tiled floors went back to marble squares with a pop pop pop into place. All the columns were gone, the cushions, but back now was Draco's leather furniture, glass coffee table and his other assorted decorations. Harry handed him his towel as he came back to the living room.

Draco yawned as he dried himself off. "Tired?"

He nodded. "The sailing, the heat, the water. I feel boneless."

"Which is a really strange feeling, by the way."

Draco frowned and then laughed. "I'd forgotten about that." He headed toward their bedroom and Harry followed. They'd fallen into a rhythm getting ready for bed, but instead of seeming monotonous and boring Harry loved how seamless and effortless it was. Neither got in each other's way (the room was huge, but still), but Harry also loved how Draco casually assisted him. He'd hold up a couple pairs of shirts, tossing the one that Harry pointed at in his direction, then putting the other way in a drawer. Harry glanced over and saw that Draco had also put his shoes away, side by side on the outside of the closet. It was incredibly thoughtful and touching and gentler quirks that Harry wondered if Draco was even aware he did them. He came out of the bathroom wearing a serious frown. "I do have one question for you, Harry." Harry lifted his brows to indicate he was listening. "Where is our book?"

Harry laughed. He was already in bed, but he reached over. His bag was on the floor and he searched through it until he found _The Da Vinci Code_, holding it up triumphantly.

"Good." Draco crawled into bed only wearing boxers. "You're reading tonight."

Harry wasn't going to protest, but had he wanted to the protest would have faded away as Draco curled up next to him, head resting on his chest. It was a change, a good change. Harry was distracted by Draco's leg curled around his, an arm across his chest. Usually that was how _Harry _slept, but Merlin, now he knew why Draco never complained. There was something meaningful to it all.

Draco glanced up at him, impatient. "Well?"

"Alright, alright." With a grin Harry opened the book, straightened the earmarked page and began reading. He made it through Chapter 6 and then realized Draco was fast asleep. Harry marked the page and making as little movement as possible, put the book down on the nightstand. He paused before turning off the lamp and just gazed at the sleeping man on him, a little in awe. Two months ago if someone had told him that he'd be friends with Draco Malfoy he would have thought them crazy. If they had told him a month later he'd be _sleeping _with him, Harry probably would have checked himself into St. Mungo's to check for spells. But now, Harry wasn't sure if he could live without Draco. His world had flipped upside down since he first had that dream and now his reality had firmly settled, but with Draco as the foundation. For the first time in Harry's life he felt whole, full, like Draco was a piece of him that Harry never even knew was missing, but now that he was there, Harry couldn't imagine life without him.

Harry reached and clicked the light off, using his hands to push he and Draco down the bed a bit so he could get comfortable. Draco made a noise, but didn't wake. Harry was tired, but he decided to hold Draco a while longer, keeping his hands on Draco's cool, bare skin. Eventually he slept, imagining a breeze blowing through a forest as he dreamed.


	16. Chapter 16: After Parties

**Definite slash and again, I don't speak French.**

**After Parties**

Draco's voice from the living room woke Harry up from a very restful night's sleep. He glanced at the clock on Draco's nightstand and got up, blinking as he adjusted to the light in the living room. Draco was sitting at the kitchen table already dressed in black jeans and a dark charcoal sweater. He was eating some fruit and talking on the phone. He mouthed "Good morning" and motioned toward the coffee pot. Harry smiled and grabbed him a cup, sitting across from Draco. Harry snatched a piece of melon off Draco's plate and whispered, "Who are you talking to?"

"Brian," he whispered back with an exaggerated roll of the eye. "Yes, I'm paying attention," he said aloud. Harry grinned and reached for more fruit. Draco grabbed one more piece and just pushed the plate over to Harry, apparently finished. "That's fine. No, I don't want Sarah walking in those heels, she nearly fell in New York. I don't know. Yeah, that'll do. Harry said he's coming today." Draco grinned at him and then laughed. "That's what he said."

"Hey!" Harry had an idea that Brian just insulted his lack of fashion knowledge. Draco winked at him, soothing the one tiny feeling that had been wounded. He continued to sip his coffee and eat the rest of Draco's breakfast. A few minutes later he said goodbye to Brian and snapped his mobile shut.

"He's stressing out. I told him I'd be there soon for the pre-show activities."

"What time is the big show?"

"Noon." Draco grabbed something for his back pocket and handed it to Harry. "That'll get you in. Then, we're all meeting at the warehouse for an after party around nine. Do you think you can make it?"

Harry read through the ticket. "I might be a little late to the party. I have some work to do at _Seven Thirty One._"

Draco nodded. "Well, I better get going. I'll see you later." He came around and hugged Harry, lingering longer than he needed to.

Harry sensed he was nervous, wrapping his arms around him as he stood. "You'll do great." Draco smiled and let Harry walk him to the door. "And I'll be there. I'll be applauding. I won't know why, but I'll be clapping."

He laughed and kissed Harry briefly on the lips and then briefly on his fingertips. "Thanks, Harry."

Half til noon Harry found himself in a large venue surrounded by beautiful, rushing people. There seemed to be several shows going on at once, some just finishing, some just ending, and all around was a manic, electric energy. In the open courtyard the noise was tolerable, but a Harry found himself ushered into a large tent the noise was so loud that it took several attempts by the guide to show him where he was supposed to sit. Harry followed the man's pointing arm and then nodded, figuring he could find his seat from there. The tent was huge, easily allowing five hundred people or more. Though it was February, Harry saw air conditioning was being piped in. Good thing too; the show hadn't even started, there were several empty seats, but the room was already stifling. Looking at his ticket and then looking at around he made a guess where he should be sitting. Music was playing loudly from speakers, people were gathered in small groups laughing and talking, some were checking cameras. There were rows and rows of folding chairs, each labeled with a letter and number, but the single most important feature of the tent had to the white walkway extending into the crowd. Harry glanced at his ticket and then looked around, finding his row.

Apologizing, he scooted by those already sitting and settled in his seat. He was wasn't in the front row, but only by a row or two. Nothing left to do now, but wait. Two men with cameras were shouting over the music, discussing the show. Harry didn't understand any of the terminology, but he gathered they were excited. That alone made him excited. Eventually the show started, heralded in by a change of music and bright flashing lights. A digital backdrop flashed _Drake Black Designs_ in several different font sizes and shapes. The lights flickered, increasing in speed until the beam narrowed and then the first model stepped out on the catwalk. Harry was clueless. When the men next to him clapped, he clapped. He _liked _the outfits, some of them were genuinely stunning, but he failed to see the difference in cut and style that the announcer kept mentioning. Harry didn't let that phase him though. He was here to support Draco, and that was what he was doing.

At the end of the show the lights brightened and everyone in the front two rows stood, cameras already clicking away. Harry stood too, just to avoid being the odd man out. An announcer called out Draco and Brian's names and they came out on the catwalk. Harry lost his breath at the sight of Draco. He wore a long black men's coat with a pristine white dress shirt underneath and silky black pants with large buckled boots. His hair was shorter, swept back and to the side with streaks of a silvery purple hue added for flair. The cameras flashed and the crowd roared. Harry tried to reign in the sudden inappropriate thoughts he was having, but it was hard...um, difficult. He knew Draco was handsome, hell, he'd told him so before, but he was so damned attractive that it was stirring strange thoughts in his brain. Harry had an unexpected desire to make love to Draco. He was imagining how it would feel to move in Draco, to hold him, make _him _cry out. Harry hadn't had these thoughts before, was always content with Draco loving him, but now that the image was there, Harry couldn't shake it. He wanted Draco badly enough that he was nearly shaking. He grabbed the chair in front of him and wrenched his mind away from these thoughts and back to the show.

Draco was waving at the crowd, he saw Harry and smiled, pointing him out to Brian who also waved. Harry swallowed, trying to maintain his composure. He applauded and even hollered a bit with the rest of the crowd. Eventually Draco and Brian left the stage; the cameramen jumped from their seats at the same time as if on cue and swarmed past Harry. Harry was glad for some breathing space. He glanced at his watch and knew he had to go. But, with a smile on his lips, also knew that he'd see Draco again at the after party, and then tonight at their flat. He blocked his thoughts from going any further, unwilling to let his imagination run away with him. He found himself an empty corner and when no one was looking apparated to his restaurant.

Harry was busy in his office. He heard the hustle and bustle of the kitchen, orders being called in and out, waiters and waitresses talking between tables, busboys shuffling dirty plates and glasses. Running a restaurant was like orchestrating organized chaos. Harry trusted his staff, the open door to his office wasn't because he was micro-managing, but more because he enjoyed the cacophony.

There came a knock on his door and Eric stuck his head in. "Hey boss. You wanted to know when we hit a lull."

"Oh, yeah. What time is it?"

"Little past nine. You still have time to go the party." Eric played soccer with Draco and knew who Drake Black was, so Harry had told him of the party and asked that he remind him when the restaurant slowed down.

Harry made a few clicks on the computer so it would shut down. "Thanks, Eric. You guys good for the night?"

Eric waved him off. "Easy." The computer shut down and Harry stood, stretching from sitting so long. "Uh, no offense Harry, but...you're not wearing that to a fashion after party, are you?"

Harry hadn't really given his outfit any thought, but he glanced down anyway. He was in jeans and a long sleeve shirt with four buttons at the neck. It wasn't a bad look, and Draco would never say anything, but Harry got Eric's meaning. If he showed up to a fashion after party looking like this he'd embarrass Draco unintentionally. Harry smiled, grabbing his coat. "Of course not. I'm going to change before I go. Have a good night."

Eric backed out of his doorway. "You too! Tell Drake hi for me and congratulations."

Harry said a few more goodbyes and snuck out the back alley. He glanced around, no one was in sight. He decided to apparate to the one place that could help him find an appropriate outfit.

Harry stood in front of Ron and Hermione's door, a tad hesitant. He'd talked to Ron once or twice on the phone since their forced reconciliation, but was afraid not all was mended between them. That night was hazy, alcohol did a good job of blurring the memories. Harry knew he and Ron had come to some agreement, but he was unsure how far it went. Showing up asking for help that had something to do with Draco might be like pouring lemon on an open wound. At the same time, Draco was going to be a part of Harry's life. If he and Ron had any chance at resuming their friendship, Ron would have to accept that. Hopefully, he already had. Running out of time and excuses, Harry knocked on the door.

He didn't wait long before Ron opened the door, smiling once he saw it was Harry. "Hey! Come in. What are you doing in the neighborhood."

Harry could detect a bit of forced pleasantry, but figured Ron found the situation a little uncomfortable as well. Internally Harry sighed and hoped they'd get past this strangeness. Talking was a good start. At least he didn't throw a bludger at him. Harry came in, "Actually, I was hoping Hermione wasn't busy. I need her help."

"That's nothing new," Ron was grinning and Harry echoed it. "Hermione! Harry's here!"

"Ron!" She came from down the hall wearing an oversized shirt and some pajama pants, her unruly hair up in a clip. "I've told you not to holler at me! Hi Harry."

Ron ducked his head, looking sheepish. "Sorry. I yell all day at the shop. Bad habit." He was almost telling Harry, more than Hermione. Harry had a feeling they'd had this conversation once or twice. "Anyway, Harry said he needs your help."

"Really?" Hermione hugged Harry. "With what?"

Moment of truth. He had mental fingers crossed that this wouldn't upset Ron. "So, there's an after party for Drake Black Designs tonight. I was wondering if you could create another glamour, like last time." He paused, rocking back on his heels. "I want to impress Draco."

Ron bit a knuckle, like he was trying to hold back something, but he gave up, deciding to just voice his thoughts. "He shouldn't care what you're wearing, if he really likes you."

Harry was glad to note there wasn't any anger in Ron's voice; actually he sounded concerned, defending Harry's honor. Harry defended Draco's. "He wouldn't and doesn't, but this is a special night. _I _want to surprise him."

Hermione was listening with an interested tilt of her head. "Hang on, let me look through the magazines for some ideas." She lingered a quick minute, "I'm a little jealous, Harry. I'd love to go to a Drake Black after party. Tell Draco congratulations." Then she vanished down the hall in a flurry, focused on her task at hand.

That left Ron and Harry standing awkwardly together in the living room. Ron was the first to break the silence. "Want a beer?"

"Sure." Harry followed Ron into the kitchen an sat at their oversized table. Ron went to the refrigerator and grabbed two glass beer bottles, popping the cap before handing it over. Harry gave a little salute and took a sip. "So, how's the quidditch pitch coming?"

Ron lit up. "It's great! We should have the first match real soon." He paused. "You and um...Draco should come to the opening game."

Harry smiled, a genuine full smile at his friend. He could tell Ron was feeling awkward, but he was trying. Inviting Draco, hell just saying his name, it meant so much to Harry. It meant that he and Ron had a chance of moving past all this after all. It was an olive branch, a peace treaty and Harry welcomed it wholeheartedly. "We'd love that. Did you know Draco plays soccer?"

Ron looked confused. "That's a muggle game, right? Lot's of running."

He sounded suspicious and Harry didn't blame him. Harry remembered how surprised he was when he first learned Draco played. "He's good too. When's he's not cheating."

"So...never?" Ron laughed.

"Hey! You just have to watch him," but Harry was laughing too. He launched into the time they created a magical soccer team. It was nice talking to Ron again. That tenseness seemed to evaporate the longer he sat there talking and drinking his beer, but in the back of Harry's mind he was getting antsy. He was already late to the after party. What was taking Hermione so long.

As if on cue, she came into the kitchen, thumb holding a page open of a magazine. "Alright. I think I've found a good one. Ready?"

"Ready as ever." Harry put his beer down and stood in front of Hermione. He didn't really want to see the outfit she picked out first; he was going to trust her judgement.

Hermione started weaving a spell and Ron took a swig from his beer. "What's the big deal tonight, again? Why is Draco at a Drake Black party?"

"Ummm, they're sort of the same person, Ron." Harry said glancing back at his friend. He let Ron digest that while he turned his attention to Hermione's spell work. He saw his clothes melting and shifting, changing and he realized that Hermione was doing more than a glamour this time, she was transfiguring. The outfit would remain unless a counterspell was applied.

Ron made a strangled noise in his throat. "Malfoy is Drake Black? Oh man, I really liked some of his stuff."

"You can keep liking his stuff, prat."

"Oh," Ron drank his beer. "I guess I can. Sorry, Harry. Old feelings die hard."

Harry rolled his eyes. Hermione finished the magic with a few final flicks of the wand and then created a full length mirror for Harry to see the final product. Harry was amazed. He always knew Hermione was a talented witch, but she had exceeded all of Harry's expectations. Looking back at him in the mirror was a man that Harry knew was him, but it was so much _more. _Hermione had chosen a dark purple, nearly black suit that was satin or silk (Harry didn't know these things). The jacket was modern, long sleeved with two buttons left open. Underneath was a smooth black turtleneck that hugged him a little tighter than he was used to, even though it fit perfectly. The pants were of the same silky smooth material as the jacket, narrowing down to a cuff at the ankle. Hermione hadn't missed a detail, changing his sneakers into a pair of leather loafers that matched the same dark purple. Harry never really saw himself as a grown up; his mental image hadn't changed a lot since Hogwarts, but for the first time he saw an adult man looking back him. Even his unruly hair was styled to look purposefully messy. A little speechless he turned to Hermione about the same time Ron came around to see.

"Hermione," Harry said a little breathless, "I think you've outdone yourself." She beamed at him, happy.

"Bloody hell, Hermione, you made him look like a model!" Ron's eyes were wide. He wasn't criticizing her; he seemed just as surprised as Harry.

"Thank you. Well, Harry? Think it'll do?"

Think it will do? He wasn't about to tell them what he thought Draco's reaction would be, so he merely grinned, trying hard to keep his face innocent. "It's great, Hermione, really. And I should be going. I'm already late."

Hermione gave him a quick hug and peck on the check. "Have fun, and let me know how it goes!"

Ron walked Harry to the door, staring at him like he'd just seen Harry for the first ever. He held the door open as Harry left, "Hey." He began, stalling Harry's apparition. "You want to have lunch tomorrow? You can tell me about this party."

Harry smiled. "I'd like that. What time?"

"Noon? Meet at the shop?"

"Sounds good." And with a wave, Harry apparated away.

The area around the warehouse was full of people, go Harry was glad he apparated a few blocks away and walked the distance like a muggle. The front door was open, loud music spilled out of the building and onto the sidewalk. A semi-permanent crowd ebbed and flowed near the entrance, some party goers coming in, some going on. Most had at least one drink in hand, flirting, laughing, joyously using the party for their advantage. Harry made his way to their door by weaving through the crowds. He said hello when greeted, agreed when a few complimented the show, but he basically had to shove his way into the warehouse.

Inside, a dj was set up in a far corner. Colored lights and strobing lights had been spread throughout the warehouse floor; they pulsated and changed colors based on the beat. The dj had a mic and he was occasionally yelling into the crowd. Harry couldn't hear what he was saying, but there was an answering roar from a majority of the party goers. The warehouse was full, one side was dedicated to a bar, another was dedicated to food. There were a few tables, but Harry got the impression that sitting wasn't a high priority at this party. He glanced around, trying to see either Draco, or at least Brian. The coloring of the lights was off, making it hard for him focus. Luckily, someone tapped his elbow.

Harry turned to see Brian, drink in hand. Unlike Draco, Brian wore brighter colors and tonight was no exception. His pants reminded Harry of a robin's egg while his jacket was a dark sapphire. Harry had no idea if the purple shirt and pink tie tied the outfit together or caused it all to clash. Thankfully, Harry didn't care. He reached a hand out to Brian who shook it, looking him up and down.

Brian seemed to enjoy Harry's outfit, walking a small circle around him. "I remember that line!" He said, voice just a bit slurred. "And don't you look smashing."

"Thanks." Harry downplayed the compliment. Brian wasn't who he was dressed for. "Hey, I'm looking for Draco. Have you seen him?"

"The man of the hour? He's around here somewhere. Try over there," he gestured to an area halfway to the dj. "I saw him there earlier. Enjoy the party, Harry."

"Yeah, thanks Brian." He watched Brian disappear back into the crowd, waving and chatting with people before moving in the general direction Brian pointed him to. This part of the warehouse didn't have as many people and soon Harry caught sight of Draco. Much to Harry's delight he was in the same outfit from earlier; his heartbeat raced ahead of his thoughts. Draco was talking to a group of people, men and women. He was taller than them. It allowed Harry to see the exact moment Draco first noticed him. One minute his mouth was moving and he was looking down, then he glanced up meeting Harry's eyes. Whatever he had been saying was forgotten. Harry saw him excuse himself from the group and walk the ten or so feet over to him, staring at him the entire time.

Instead of saying anything to him, Draco grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him down the hallway that led to the elevator and then his office. It was darker there, hidden and once around the corner Draco pushed him up against the wall. "Shit, Harry." He barely got the words out before his mouth was on Harry's. There was a rawness to Draco's kiss, a nearly uncontrolled passion that fueled Harry's own ardor, kissing him back, pulling him closer. Harry still had a bit of control, but only because he was still focused on an idea _after _the party. Gently, and with several kisses, he pushed Draco away.

"We're supposed to be at your party, remember?" Harry was fixing Draco's hair, putting it back into place after messing it up with his hands.

Draco groaned and put a hand on the wall next to Harry's face, leaning into him. "Harry, you can't be serious." His free hand was sneaking under Harry's turtleneck, cool hand against warm skin.

Harry wasn't purposefully teasing, and yet at the same time he enjoyed having this reaction on Draco. He moved into Draco, hanging his arms around his neck. "Come on. I didn't get all dressed up for nothing. Let's have a few drinks, meet a few people." He kissed Draco's protest away, knowing he was going to argue. Harry grinned and ducked under Draco's arm, ignoring his groan again. "Come on."

Draco pushed away from the wall, eyes intense. "Fine. But you're not leaving my side. If I can't have you right now, I at least want to see you."

Harry answered with a large grin.

Side by side they went back to the party. True to Draco's word he stayed near Harry. Harry knew Draco wasn't the most affectionate person in public, so he was flattered that Draco openly kept a hand on his back, or on his arm. It was a bit possessive, which also didn't bother Harry. There were many attractive people at this party. Harry thought upon that fact for a moment as Draco talked to some vendor or other. He glanced at a group of women, long legged, slim, wearing dresses that hardly concealed any parts of their body. They were pretty, he could admit that, but it was like looking at a drawing or a picture. Once, it seemed a long time ago now, those same women would have aroused some sexual interest, but not now. Something in Harry had definitely shifted. Now he was curious to see how much his tastes had changed. He gazed around at the men this time. Most of the men at the party were dressed well. You could identify easily who was gay and who wasn't by the crowd they surrounded themselves with, and some flamboyant characteristics that neither Harry nor Draco possessed. Harry supposed some were handsome, but he had the same feeling looking at the men that he did looking at the women; attractive in an abstract way that didn't stir any deeper emotions. They were boring, carbon copies of each other.

And then there was Draco. Harry watched him as he easily chatted with a small group of people that had gathered around them. Draco had a completely different effect on him. Just looking at him, his eyes, his hair, the way one side of his lips was tilted up like he constantly knew a secret, all of it was distinctly Draco and utterly wonderful. Harry felt a swell of desire when he thought of Draco, and only Draco elicited these responses out of him. Harry slipped his arm around Draco as he continued to talk, lightly squeezing him, needing to share his thoughts. Draco looked down briefly, long enough for Harry to see what Draco wouldn't say in front of a crowd: _I love you too_. Harry smiled and went back to people watching. Eventually the crowd around Draco dispersed and it was just the two of them again.

Draco turned to face Harry, staring at him intently while brushing a few stray hairs out of Harry's eyes. "Alright, Harry?"

Such a simple question, but Harry loved the way Draco said it. "Yeah," Harry answered as he touched Draco's arm, "Never better."

"Not bored yet?"

"Hardly." Harry felt his cheeks go red. "While you talk, I get the best view." He gestured to Draco from head to toe.

"Ah, is that what you were thinking? You seemed a mile away."

Not sure how to describe his recent revelation, Harry shrugged. "More or less."

"Well…" Draco's attention was diverted by a loud laugh and a man waving as he made his way toward them through the crowd. "Damn." Draco seemed irritated, vexed and Harry followed his line of sight.

A tall man was headed their way. He had dark hair that contrasted with his pale skin. There was a feline quality to his movements, slow and slinky, that made Harry uncomfortable. And like cats, he wore his sexuality on his sleeve. As he came closer Harry was struck by an odd thought. Though Harry firmly believed he was looking at a man, if one looked at him just right he could have been a woman. The single white pantsuit he wore didn't help that impression any. This odd man was vaguely familiar too. Harry was having a hard time pinpointing why.

Draco cursed again, brushing his hair back in agitation; the man a few feet away. "Harry, listen to me. Ezra Évreux is a born flirt. Don't take _anything _he says seriously, ok?"

Harry was unable to ask for clarification, but now he recalled where he saw this man. He had been at the club, the son of his customer. Harry remembered now. Draco had called him _an acquaintance_. An unreasonable surge of jealousy coursed through Harry's body.

The man was suddenly there, kissing Draco on both cheeks. "Ca fait longtemps."

"En effet," Draco replied. Even in a different language, Harry could tell he was annoyed, though why, he didn't know. He also hadn't known Draco knew French.

"Qui est-ce?" The man's attention was on him now, looking him up and down.

Draco sighed. "C'est 'Arri. Harry, meet Ezra."

Harry shook Ezra's hand, but didn't let it linger. "Nice to meet you."

Ezra continued to stare at him, but with the beginnings of a smile now. "Je me rappelle de lui." He glanced at Draco. "Tu le baise?"

"Oui," Draco's eyes narrowed a bit. "Parle anglais. Speak English."

"So," Ezra said with an accent, "You are enjoying Drake, yes? I must confess myself a little disappointed."

"Ezra." There was a warning in Draco's tone, an edge.

"What? I'm making conversation." He pulled Harry away from Draco, even though Harry made a sound of protest. "He's a wonderful lover, no?" He whispered in Harry's ear. Harry felt his face go red. Ezra laughed. "Il est tellement innocent. You're so innocent." He translated with another laugh.

Harry felt the familiar pressure of Draco's hand on his arm and he took a step away from Ezra, glad for the space.

Draco was shaking his head. "Alright, you've had your fun. Go find someone else to amuse."

"Drake, mon cher, don't be like that." Ezra moved between he and Draco, draping his arms around Draco's neck.

Harry was insulted and offended. He _might _have let jealousy get the better of him, except he saw Draco's eyes. They were cold and hard as he detached himself from Ezra's embrace. Another memory from that night at the club came back to Harry, a little clearer with hindsight. Draco had pushed Ezra off him then as well. Whatever once had been between them was long gone. Draco was angry, Harry could see the rage just below the surface, but he was holding it in, not wanting to make a scene at the party. As Harry looked around he noticed that no one was paying them any attention in their little corner. That would change if yelling began.

Draco's eyes were narrow, his lips drawn in a thin line. "That's enough, Ezra. You're being foolish now."

There was defiance in the tall man's eyes. Harry wondered what in the world he hoped to accomplish. If he was after Draco, that wasn't going to happen. Draco was furious at him, surely he could see that. Even if he wasn't, Draco was _Harry's_. His. And he wasn't about to share. For good measure Harry stood by Draco's side.

Ezra frowned, but it was only there for a split second before he shrugged. "You can't blame me for trying, can you?" Neither Harry nor Draco answered, though Harry felt Draco take a deep breath and release it in a sigh. "Ah well. Enjoy him, 'Arri, while you can. Drake Black has never been one to settle down." And then he was turning away, melting back into the crowd.

Harry watched him go. Good riddance. Draco had his arms crossed over his chest; a defensive position, and he was only looking at Harry from the side. "Alright, Draco?" Harry felt it was his turn to ask.

Draco seemed more upset than Harry, jaw clenching and releasing the tension. "Me? What about you?"

Harry shrugged and motioned Draco to follow him back to the elevator hallway. "You told me not to take him seriously, so...I'm not. Besides," Harry pulled Draco's arms apart so he could embrace him, "you should have seen your face. I thought you were going to _jinx _him."

Draco laughed, resting his head on top of Harry's. "The thought had occurred to me." He sighed again, holding Harry tighter. "So, you're not upset?" Harry shook his head. Draco took the opportunity to kiss him and Harry responded gladly. One single kiss was enough to vanish any insecurities he might have had.

Though Draco seemed a bit distant now. Harry could sense it, could feel it. "Are you sure _you're _ok?" Harry saw Draco hesitate, biting his bottom lip. He was still holding Harry, but there was a strange undercurrent to it; like he was afraid if he let go then Harry would go too. "You're not." Harry answered. Draco closed his eyes, leaning against the wall. "What did he say that got to you?" When Draco didn't answer, Harry thought back. What had Ezra said? _Drake Black has never been one to settle down. _Harry gently took Draco's right hand, holding it to his cheek. Draco's lips turned up in a smile and he opened his eyes. "You know I'm not in love with Drake Black, right? Not any more than you're in love with _the _Harry Potter." Draco was watching him with a small frown. "Those names, those belong to them." He gestured with his head to the party around the corner. Harry placed his hand over Draco's heart, like he had done for him. "It's just you, Draco."

Draco pulled him closer with the hand on his cheek until they were forehead to forehead. "Harry."

Just the way Draco said his name, part desire, part whisper, part _everything_. When Draco said his name it was like he captured all of Harry's essence, like he saw him, knew him, loved him. Harry never could figure out why Draco saying his name had such an effect on him, but now he did. Draco was saying so much more than just his name. He was saying _I love you_, _You are mine_, _I am yours_, and there was a promise of forever there too. All of that in just a name. It was powerful and Harry once again found himself wanting to make love to Draco. With just a slight movement he found Draco's lips and kissed them, purposefully putting passion behind it. Draco responded with a moan, holding both sides of his face. Harry continued the kiss until he was out of breath. "Let's get out here," he whispered.

Draco still held his face. "About damn time."

Harry laughed low, in his chest. "We'll say goodbye to Brian and go."

"Must we?"

"Yes. I don't want him calling looking for you." Harry shuddered in mock horror. "Or worse, coming over." He could see Draco weighing his options. If Draco was quick enough he could probably apparate them to his flat before Harry had a chance to react. "It'll take just a moment." He persuaded.

Eventually Draco agreed. They made their way through the crowds, the party still going strong. Several people waved at Draco, wanting his attention, but Draco was focused solely on Harry, following a step behind him, oblivious to the world around him. It took some searching, but Harry finally found Brian outside. He was outrageously flirting with a young man, nearly his entire body up against him, save for a drink that he kept to the side. Harry wasn't sure how to get his attention.

Draco, however, was a step ahead of him. He whistled shrilly and Brian's head snapped up, a humorous mix of embarrassment and irritation. "We're leaving, Brian. Make sure to lock up and I'll clean up tomorrow."

Brian waved. "Sure thing." And then he his attention was back on the young man.

Draco gave Harry an impatient look. "There. Can we go now?" In response Harry took Draco's arm and started walking toward the flat. There wasn't much conversation between them as they walked the few blocks to the hotel. What was said was through touch, sight, a caress here and there, silver eyes smoldering bright in the street lights. Harry found himself walking backward, Draco's hands under his shirt guiding him. He had no fear of falling or stumbling, not the way Draco was watching him. That was part of the reason Harry hadn't turned around. The intensity in Draco's gaze was intoxicating. Being the entire focus of another person was something Harry had never experienced before. Ginny, though a good person, had been slightly self absorbed. Hermione and Ron had each other. His aunt and uncle...well, they liked to pretend he didn't exist. Every person in his past had wanted something from him, had never _seen _him. But Draco did, and it made Harry's heart swell. Draco paused their walk, holding his waist. Harry could hear people in the distance and guessed they were close to the hotel. A quick glance across his shoulder proved him right. Draco used his thumbs to rub his skin a few times and then he withdrew, pulling Harry's shirt down.

Harry smiled at him and wrapped an arm around his waist. Draco did the same and they strolled through the lobby. Either Harry was in such a good mood that he didn't notice any shocked or scandalized faces, or the staff and residents were starting to get used to the sight of he and Draco together. Draco pushed the code for the lift and once inside had his hands back on Harry's bare skin, kissing his neck. "You know," Harry said as he leaned back, "I think they're getting used to us."

Draco took a second to respond ,"Who cares?" And then he was back to kissing Harry, this time using the tip of his teeth along with the kisses near his jaw. Harry shivered. The lift opened on their floor and the next time Harry glanced around they were in the flat, but between Draco's hands and his mouth Harry didn't remember getting there. The flat was dark except for the ambient city light that made its way through the wall of windows. Draco was practically glowing in the darkness, pale skin, silver blond hair, silver grey eyes. Harry let Draco lead him to the couch. Shoes were kicked off, jackets shrugged out off and then they sat, sitting next to each other but turned toward one another. Harry waited, wondering what Draco was thinking.

Draco pushed up the sleeve on his right arm and held his palm toward Harry, waiting, expectant. Harry copied the movement, pulling up his sleeve and touching Draco's hand, palm to palm. His warm hand, darker and slightly thicker next to Draco's pale cool hand, with his long, slender fingers. Draco did the same with his other hand, and so did Harry. Draco caressed his palms with his fingers, his wrists, Harry found himself mirroring. Both their arms fluid, touching, stroking, holding the others. "Harry..." Draco captured Harry's wrists and kissed both his palms, his fingers. It was intimate and sentimental and Harry had a feeling Draco only ever did this to him. That Harry was the only one who would ever see this side of him.

Harry didn't try to break away, brushing Draco's hair out of his face. "Draco." He tried to convey the same message in Draco's name that he felt when Draco said his: _I love you, I need you, I know you_. Draco's breath hitched in his throat and Harry knew he succeeded. He moved closer until he was stradling Draco's lap, pulling his own turtle neck up and off. It was Harry's turn to unbutton a shirt, and he did so while trailing kisses on Draco's jaw. He could feel Draco becoming aroused, could feel his heartbeat pulsing on his neck.

"Harry," Draco was breathless, leaning back on his arms. "Harry, say my name like that again."

Ironically, Draco was saying Harry's name the same way, that intensely private way that made Harry want him even more. All the buttons were undone and Harry let his hands roam all over Draco's stomach and chest, leaning closer to whisper, "_Draco." _Draco moaned and Harry felt him harden through their pants. Harry was hard too, but he ignored it for now, focusing on Draco. Harry used his fingers, light touches on Draco's ribs, his sides, while Harry sucked on a pale nipple. Draco made a noise, half hiss, half sigh, all pleasure. His head was back, lips parted and Merlin he was beautiful. Harry rocked into him, knowing the friction would get to him. Draco inhaled and arms shaking lowered himself completely on the couch, head against the armrest. Harry did it again, watching as Draco lost himself in the moment. Harry loved seeing Draco like this, in the grips of passion. And he loved that _he _was the reason for it. With a hand he touched the shape of Draco through his pants. Harry could feel the heat through the material. Wanting more he undid Draco's pants, his arousal firm once freed from the constraints. Draco moaned again as Harry started moving his hand, up and down, up and down.

Draco was trying to catch his breath. "Harry...Harry, if you keep doing that…" He closed his eyes, licking his lips, unable to finish the thought.

Harry watched as a shiver made its way from Draco's head to his toes. Harry smirked, "If I keep doing what? This?" He put more pressure in his fingers, could feel Draco's pulse _bum bum bum bum. _Draco was fighting the final release, Harry could see it on his face, the concentration, the sweat on his brow. But he didn't know what Harry planned, what Harry wanted. Harry kept his ministrations up, leaning close to Draco's ear. "Draco, you know what I want?" Draco was listening, glistening eyes on him. He shook his head no. "I want to know what it feels like to have you. To move in you. To hear _you_ cry out." Each phrase was accompanied by stronger pumps of Harry's hands, punctuating his words with action.

"_Harry_." That was all Draco was able to say, and yet Harry knew he was really saying yes.

Harry smiled and kissed Draco who kissed him back in between panting for air. It wouldn't be long now. Draco had stopped fighting and was gone. Harry knew that feeling well, the moments right before he came. It was like a pressure, a bright light, an urge and behind it all was Draco. Draco was holding Harry's legs, fingers digging almost uncomfortably into his flesh.

Draco tensed. "_Harry." _Longing, desire, craving, his body shaking. Harry grabbed his shirt and covered Draco seconds before he came. He rocked into Harry's hands, gasping, holding onto Harry's biceps until he had nothing left. There were beads of sweat on his forehead and a brightness in his eyes as he pulled Harry down to kiss.

They stayed that way for a while, kissing and holding each other until Harry stood off the couch, hand out for Draco. He stood and Harry gazed at him, shirt undone, pants undone, and he was watching Harry too as Harry led them into the bedroom. It was darker in there, but his eyes adjusted. Draco was already half undressed, all it took was a little pressure from Harry's fingers and his pants were on the floor. He'd gone commando and now stood before Harry, the tips of his fingers on the mattress like he needed the balance. Draco seemed willing to let Harry take control, make all the decisions. The trust that implied only made Harry want Draco more. Brushing his hands over Draco's chest and arms, he slipped the open shirt on the floor as well. Harry held him, felt Draco's arms around him as well and they swayed there, moving back and forth, lost in the moment.

Harry took Draco's hand and tugged him oh so lightly. "Lie down." Draco did as he was told, watching Harry as he dropped his pants. Harry had never lost his erection, and now so close to Draco it was stronger than ever. Harry wasn't technically a virgin; he'd had sex with Ginny, but he knew this would be different. How different, he didn't know, but he knew he wanted it. Merlin he wanted it so badly he was shaking. Draco was watching him, remaining silent, but Harry saw the desire in his eyes, saw his chest rising and falling in anticipation. Unable to hold himself back anymore, Harry gave in to instinct, sliding into Draco. Draco clutched at the sheets as Harry eased in, trying to remember to breathe. The feeling was unimaginable, nearly indescribable. He felt Draco all around him, hot, tight, and yet willing. He went deeper and Draco arched his back, moaning. That nearly made Harry come, but he concentrated. Further he went, driven by Draco's gasping, the way he was unable to hold still. Harry reached for one of Draco's legs, bending it so that he could a better angle and then he started moving. _Merlin_, he wondered if he looked half as enticing as Draco did, head back, eyes on him, lips apart, hands clawing at the sheets. It drove Harry crazy.

Draco was responding to Harry in a way that Ginny never had. When Harry thrust, Draco countered. Sweat was clinging to Harry's body, but still, he was nowhere near finished. He'd never lasted long before, but all he wanted was to hold on to this feeling, keep Draco as part of him. Harry was purposefully using long and slow movements. Draco was sighing, moving under him in a matching rhythm. Harry lost all track of time, all track of the world. There was only Draco and there was only him. Harry felt a surge of desire and Draco moaned. Soon now, soon, he wouldn't be able to hold back. Draco sat up, draping his arms around Harry's neck and kissing him as Harry adjusted to this new position.

"Harry...Harry love…" Draco gasped, kissing Harry again. Hearing his name caused Harry to move faster, losing himself in the motion. Draco seemed to realize it, holding on to him. "_Harry!" _Harry could hear himself moan into Draco's mouth, but it was if he were far away. The whole world seemed too large and too small at the same time. Harry felt his body split into two. One part was with Draco, the other was in the forest dream, but only for a second. The forest, the sky, the peace Harry had when he was in that place, it all seemed to collapse in on itself and settle in Harry's chest. Different emotions bombarded Harry; love, desire, trust, love, desire, trust. It took Harry a second to realize that it wasn't just his emotions, but Draco's as well. Draco's love flowed through him and that was too much for Harry. He thrust and thrust. Draco held on to him, crying out just how Harry dreamed and oh Harry came more violently than he ever had before. Draco's cries matched his own, he didn't even know he was calling out, but he heard his voice. "_Draco!" _

They held onto each other, lost in passion, lost in one another. Harry was trembling now, sweating and breathing deeply. Draco met his eyes and Harry held his breath. The forest dream, the silver sky, he saw it Draco's eyes; silver clouds floating in silver irises, illuminating the dark room.

Draco's eyes were wide in astonishment, one hand on Harry's face. "Harry...Harry I can see the forest in your eyes."

"So can I." Harry put his hand on his heart. "I can _feel_ you here."

Draco sighed in wonder, a hand on his chest. "Me too."

And then the sensation and the light faded, but it was a pleasant fade, like one last embrace from a lover. Draco was still in Harry's arms and Harry held him in awe, placing chaste kisses on his cheek, his jaw, his neck. Now that he wasn't in the throes of the passion, Harry was a bit chilly, goosebumps spread from his neck down. Draco saw them, kissing Harry's chest. He was the first to detangle himself, scooting toward the head of the bed.

He fluffed his pillows and then motioned for Harry. "Come here." With a smile Harry did as he was told, settling on his side against Draco's open arms. Draco encircled Harry with his arms, breathing in deeply. "Harry, Harry, you're full of surprises, you know that?"

"Am I?" Harry placed small kisses on Draco's chest.

Draco held him tighter as he responded. "Delightful, wonderful surprises."

Harry grinned. "And you're still not the tiniest bit curious about those visions?"

"No." Draco paused, letting his hand rest on Harry's shoulder.

"Why not?"

Draco sighed. "Because it doesn't change anything. I love you. Do you love me?"

"You know I do."

"There. That's all I need to know." Draco stretched out, scooting down so he could lay flat. "Damn Harry, but you do a body good."

"Yeah?" Harry was smiling broadly, even though he knew Draco couldn't see it in the darkness.

"Yeah. You're welcome to do that again any time." Draco yawned, rubbed Harry's arm and then settled his hand on Harry's waist.

The adrenaline was leaving Harry's system and he too yawned. Sleep sounded good. He was satiated, loved and in the arms of not only his lover, but the one he loved. That feeling they shared, the love, the desire, the trust, Harry wished he knew what it meant. Draco's stubborn lack of interest was irritating, but Harry was learning that Draco liked to compartmentalize; if it didn't hurt him or directly affect him he was willing to overlook it. Harry tended to overthink everything so instead of being seriously annoyed at Draco's attitude, he tried to see it from his perspective. Whatever was happening to them _wasn't _causing them harm. Quite the opposite, it brought them closer together. And, almost reluctantly, he saw Draco's point of view. The dream didn't really matter. Harry loved Draco, Merlin loved making love to him. He felt like he was given something special tonight, a piece of Draco that was still with him. Harry could close his eyes and almost feel Draco's presence in a special place above his heart. Problem was, Harry didn't know if he what he was feeling was real or wishful thinking. Either way, Draco's love was all around him. In the way he held him, in the way he trusted him enough to fall asleep first. As a child Harry never felt loved, never felt safe, but in Draco's arms all those memories, all that hurt vanished. Sleep was coming over him now like a warm blanket. He snuggled closer to Draco, listening to his even breathing. Harry took a deep breath and before he knew it fell asleep.

Harry woke how he fell asleep, slowly and still in Draco's arms. Neither had moved much, though Harry was more on top of Draco than nestled by his side. Draco was still asleep, breathing deep and steady. Harry's head went up and down in time with Draco's chest. He wasn't sure what time it was, but he wanted coffee. Propped up on his elbows he was able to see Draco's sleeping face. No matter how often Harry saw Draco he was always taken back by how beautiful he was. With just his fingertips he traced Draco's eyes, his nose, his lips. Here he lingered, scooting up until he could press his lips against Draco's. Harry could feel Draco waking. First he was responding with his lips and then arms were tight around Harry. Harry was no longer just kissing lips, but Draco was exploring his mouth with his tongue and Harry sighed into Draco's mouth.

Draco kissed him once more and then let his head fall back on the pillow. "Good morning to you too."

"Sorry."

Draco waved his apology away. "There are worse ways to wake."

That was true. Harry had first hand experience. He half smiled. "Want coffee?"

"Of course I want coffee. Coffee and then a shower." Draco flicked Harry's limp hair out of his eyes. "You're welcome to join me."

Harry grinned and rolled out of bed, wrapping himself in one of Draco's robes. Draco followed suit and their day began. It was late, after ten. They had coffee, sitting side by side at the kitchen table. Harry made them a quick breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast (though Draco ate the eggs he only nibbled on his bread). They spoke of their day. Harry was meeting Ron and Draco would be at his warehouse, first cleaning up and then working on the next line to be sold. They showered, mostly behaving themselves, though Harry had a suspicion he was going to have a mark near his clavicle where Draco got a little too involved. Oh well. Harry hadn't complained during the act so he certainly wasn't going to complain now.

Harry rummaged in his bag and pulled out a clean pair of underwear, jeans and a dark blue t-shirt, the casual kind that Draco teased him about. This was his last change of clean clothes and a thought occurred to him. "Hey, Draco."

"Hmm?" Draco was half dressed in a pair of jeans that were much more stylized than Harry's, dark grey and skinny, accentuating Draco's slim figure. He was naked waist up, towel drying his hair as he came out of the bathroom.

"Do you mind if I started moving in a little early? I was going by my flat later to give notice."

A flicker of excitement crossed Draco's face, "Sure."

"I was wondering…"

Draco gestured for him to continue as he sat on the bed next to him.

"Do you think I can keep a few of my things? Like my chair?"

By the surprise on Draco's face he hadn't thought that far. He considered, and then shrugged. "Why not. It'll be _our _place, right?"

Harry took a relieved breath. "Can I mess with the kitchen?"

Draco laughed and kissed him on the cheek. "Harry, you can do whatever you want in the kitchen. You'll be the only one using it."

"That's true." Draco tossed the towel on the floor, uncharacteristically messy of him. There was a touch of regret on his face that Harry didn't understand. A touch of regret and a sly smile. Harry narrowed his eyes, "What are you up to?"

"I'm sorry, Harry."

"Sorry?"

"Yeah," Draco did indeed have a sorry expression, but it was tempered by another emotion underneath it, something Draco was holding back.

"For what?" Harry was more curious than alarmed. He had no idea what Draco thought he had done. Then he saw Draco's true expression. It was devilishly mischievous and intense.

"You might be late for lunch." In one swift movement he had Harry pinned on the bed, holding his arms down, sitting on him.

"Draco!" Harry tried to protest. "Get off."

"I plan to," Draco replied with a gleam in his eye that softened into a sweet loving expression. "Harry, I'm glad you're moving in." Draco kept Harry's arms down and started to use his mouth on Harry's body, starting on the sensitive spot on the neck. Harry moaned despite himself.

"Me too, but I need to go," Harry tried again, but he heard a change in his tone. Draco was using his tongue on Harry's nipple and suddenly it was hard to remember what he was supposed to do. "Draco…" Draco heard the change too, releasing Harry's arms. Harry should have pushed him off, should have continued getting dressed, but Draco's lips were tantalizing and he found himself holding onto Draco's back. His skin was smooth and cool.

Draco was straddling him, naked. Harry had no idea when that happened. He could smell Draco's clean skin, could feel the occasional mist of water from his damp hair. Harry held Draco's waist and moved his feet so that he was lying on the bed instead of half on half off. Draco took Harry's face in his hands, kissing the side of his lips. "You're going to be late for lunch."

Harry grinned. He'd make it up to Ron later. For now, he nodded. "Yes I am." And then Draco's lips and hands were all over him and Harry thought no more.


	17. Chapter 17: Strange Connections

**Sigh, slash again. Fair warning. You know, just assume there's going to be. It's a fricken romance after all. **

**Strange Connections**

Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was a chaotic shop located on number Ninety Three in Diagon Alley. The corner store was painted bright orange, a splash of color against the stone buildings surrounding it. Between the outlandish hue and the spindly figure adorning the outside taking its hat off and on, Wizard Wheezes was a hard place to miss. Harry wasn't as late as he thought he'd be. The door chimed as he went in and somewhere he heard George shout a welcome. The inside was a mixture of rows and shelves stocked with candies, foods, spells, tricks...basically anything and everything that could be thought of. Fred and George had always had a knack for creating interesting and weird spells. It was nice to see George continuing the tradition. A large stairway circled its way to two higher levels. Harry stood at the base and glanced up, looking for Ron. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a young witch staring at him, pulling at her mother's robes, pointing. Harry saw her mouth his name. With a sigh Harry started ascending the stairs. "Hey, Ron! Where are you?"

"Harry!" His voice sounded like it came above him, so Harry craned his neck. Sure enough Ron was at the top of the store looking down the balcony at him. "Oi! I'm running a little late. Can you wait a few minutes."

"Sure." Harry agreed, though he was actually eager to leave. As he climbed up more people seemed to notice his presence, pausing in their shopping to gawk and point at him. A whisper was spreading wherever he went. _Harry Potter...Harry Potter..._This was why he chose not to live among wizards and witches. He couldn't even meet a friend for lunch without being idolized. He reached the top trying to keep his face neutral.

Ron was finishing with a customer and he smiled as he saw Harry. "Almost done."

Harry busied himself by standing in a corner, hoping no one else would recognize him. He inspected the assorted spells on this floor. Most were geared toward changing certain body parts into a matching animal part. There was leg of cheetah, beak of hippogriff, talons of an eagle. Harry found himself intrigued enough not to notice the passing of time until Ron hollered at him that he was free for lunch.

The only place worth eating in wizarding London was obviously the Leaky Cauldron. Dark and dingy and yet welcoming, Harry and Ron were quickly shown to a more secluded booth at Harry's request. It was warmer inside and Harry shrug out of his coat, looking around. "It's been ages since I've been here."

Ron was wearing a dark red sweater that he pulled up to his elbows. "Not much has changed."

Maybe not, Harry thought, but _he _had. He couldn't even remember any items without reading the menu and even that was a challenge. He felt like when he first came here, not knowing anything. It was strange and disorienting.

Ron kept up casual talk until a server came to take their order. Harry did his best, hoping that he chose something pallatible. Food came and went before their conversation turned into anything more meaningful than the weather, quidditch, and Ron's parents (all safe topics), so it was a surprise when Ron made an observation. "You look different, Harry."

"Do I? I haven't done anything different."

He shook his head. "No, not like that. You seem calmer."

Now Harry was a little confused. "Calmer?"

"I didn't want to say anything, but the last few years you always seemed so busy, like you couldn't stay still. Like...like you were looking for something."

An image of Draco came to Harry's mind and he smiled, curling a hand over his chest. "Maybe I was. Maybe I found it."

Ron gave a shudder but Harry chose to ignore it. The next words were causing him some discomfort, but he got them out. "So, you and Draco, you're doing alright?"

Harry smiled brightly. It was hard not to when he thought of Draco, and then he struggled to keep from blushing because thinking of Draco inevitably led back to remembering moments with Draco (not to mention their little tryst this morning). "I know it's strange, Ron, but we're great. I'm moving in with him today."

"Moving in?" Ron's face paled. "That's too soon Harry. Nothing personal, it's just too soon."

There was only genuine concern in Ron's voice, so Harry didn't get mad. "I'm there every night anyway, and I plan to continuing being there."

"And Draco? He's alright with it?"

Harry remembered the way Draco loved him this morning, the excitement and joy he had that Harry was movin in. A small blush crept up his cheeks, but it was warm and Harry hoped Ron wouldn't notice. "Draco is excited," he said finally.

Ron drank from a mug. "I don't get it with you two. How do you go from arch enemies to…"

"Lovers?" Harry offered.

"Oh man, come on, Harry. Don't say it like that."

"We are though," Harry continued with a sigh. "Am I going to have to watch what I say around you? Filter my thoughts, my words so I don't "offend" you?" Harry wasn't sure when the anger snuck in, but it was there now, showing its ugly head. If Ron hadn't made peace with the fact that he and Draco were in a relationship, then he didn't know if he could continue being his friend.

Ron took a deep breath, hands out in defense. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm trying, alright?"

Harry fixed his best friend in a stare. "Try harder."

"I will. Oh, that reminds me." Ron reached into his back pocket and handed Harry a small square paper with fancy letters on it. "It's an invite to the anniversary party." Harry took the paper while Ron tapped the front. "Look, Draco is _officially _invited. Hermione made sure."

"Thanks. I'll ask him." Harry had no idea if Draco would be willing to go to an anniversary party with him. All he could do was ask and hope for the best. Being surrounded by old school mates that didn't think much of him wouldn't sound that appealing to Harry, if he was honest. But he would still ask.

"You know, 'Mione likes him," Ron said a bit grudgingly. "Ever since he helped her solve some stupid language riddle."

Language riddle? Harry had no idea what Ron was talking about but it triggered a memory from the other night. "Did you know Draco speaks French?"

"What? Really? Fleur has tried teaching Mum some French. It sounds really hard." Ron rolled his eyes. "Makes since, I guess. 'Mione was going on the other day about how Draco had the best O.W.L.s out of all us."

"I didn't know that," Harry was genuinely was still so much he didn't know about Draco's past. Instead of making him feel worried by that fact, he felt more intrigued. What other surprises did Draco have?

Ron just shrugged as he picked up their bill, throwing some knuts and galleons on the table. "I have to get back to the shop. Hopefully we'll see you at the party." He paused as he got up, a pained smile on his face that was more for show than genuineness. "Both of you."

"Sure, Ron." Harry was in a good mood at decided to let that go. At least Ron was trying. He left the Leaky Cauldron with Ron, waving to him as he went toward the shop. Harry instead went around the back of the Leaky Cauldron and passed back into muggle London. The transition was disorienting. The Wizarding World was loud and busy in its own way, but without hardly any machines. In contrast, the muggle world roared to life all around Harry. Cars sped past spewing exhaust, and the noise was deafening if you weren't prepared for it. Nobody noticed as Harry stepped out between two shops on Charing Cross Road. Harry knew the people around him couldn't see the giant gap between the buildings, nor did they seem interested that Harry just came out of that gap. It was all part of the charms around Diagon Alley.

Harry made his way on foot toward a train station and then road the train east, closer to his flat. There weren't many people on the train, but Harry stood, lazily holding on to a handle. The feeling that he was being watched came on him slowly, sneakily. The hair on the back of his neck and arms stood up. Discreetly he cast his gaze on the railcar. No one was paying him any attention and as far as Harry could tell they were all muggles. The sensation faded as quickly as it came. Harry took a breath, looking around once more. Nobody had moved; there wasn't a shred of evidence that something was amiss. Harry mentally shook his head. He was probably being hypersensitive after all the staring and pointing at the trick shop. It was probably nothing. By the time he arrived at his flat building that momentary sensation of being watched was all but forgotten.

"'Arry, I'll be that sad to see you go. Best tenant I've had in ages."

Harry shook the landowners hand. "Thank you, sir. I'm sure you'll find another person to take it in no time, but if not," Harry handed him an envelope with an extra month's rent in it, "here's this."

The landowner's eye widened as he peaked in the envelope. "I can't take this, 'Arry!"

Harry stepped back from the older man's outreached hand. "Yes you can. And, if you rent out the place, think of it as a Christmas bonus."

"'Arry, be reasonable."

Harry took another step back. They were in main floor of Harry's soon to be ex-flat building in a tiny side room where the owner kept an office. Harry was now in the doorway, smiling at the old man. Harry knew he and his wife struggled financially. The extra money would be a good thing for them. "I'll turn the keys in soon. And don't worry, I'll clean the place up."

"'Arry." The old man tried to protest once more but Harry had turned and hurried to the steps, racing up the floors faster than the man could go.

Harry glanced around at the small flat. Nearly two years he'd lived here, and now he was leaving. It was bittersweet; Harry never liked the feeling of endings. Thankfully, he had a new beginning to look forward to. A new beginning, a new life, a new way of living. So much newness. He trailed his hands on the couch. Most of the furniture had come with the apartment. Only his chair and a few kitchen items were his. The grandfather clock struck the hour and Harry just now realized how _loud _it really was. "Huh. Draco was right." Then Harry had a wonderful idea. A wonderful, clever idea. He rushed into his room and searched in his closet until he found a small nondescript bag. It was spelled similar to one he and Hermione used so many years ago when they were hunting the last Horcruxes. Harry spent the rest of the afternoon shrinking and packing all his belongings into the bag, including one tall, large, ticking grandfather clock. Before he left he cast a cleaning charm, a twist on _scourgify_. The flat would look better than new, but Harry would wait a few days before turning in his keys. He left, closing the door slowly behind him knowing he'd never be back again.

It was too far to walk to Draco's building, but Harry wasn't ready to go home anyway. He was close to _Seven Thirty One _and he thought he'd stop by for the early evening rush. For once the day was pleasant. Spring was still weeks away, but a false spring had settled over the city bringing with it warmer and drier weather. Rain only fell in quick showers once or twice a day, never for long before a gentle breeze blew the clouds away and the sun came out again. Harry was lucky. A rain shower had just passed leaving the air crisp and clean. The sun was arching down to the west; afternoon was fading into evening. The walk was extremely enjoyable. About halfway to the restaurant Harry pulled out his mobile and dialed Draco. It rang a few times and then went to voicemail. Draco's bored drawl spoke after a beep: _This is Drake Black. Leave a message. _Harry hung up. It was nothing important. He just snapped his mobile shut when it started ringing and Draco's number popped up on the display. Harry smiled and answered it. "Hey. Didn't think you wanted to talk to me," he teased.

"_Sorry. I didn't hear it in time. Where are you? It's noisy."_

"Just walking. Do you know what time you'll be home tonight?" Harry liked the sound of that. _Home. Their _home.

Harry could hear Draco humming as he thought. "_I want to finish a set of shirts...maybe seven, eight?"_

"I'm going in for a couple hours at _Seven Thirty One _then. I'll make dinner tonight though."

"_Sound good."_

"Ok. I'll see you later then."

"_Alright. Bye, Harry. Love you."_

"Love you too." Harry closed the phone, and kept the smile on his face all through the time spent at _Seven Thirty One_. Around six Harry left the restaurant, confident his staff could handle the rest of the evening. They knew to call him if they needed anything. Harry jumped on a rail to cross the city and once in the neighborhood scouted for some fresh ingredients for dinner. Harry was in the mood for a soup so he grabbed some nice looking butternut squash, a fresh onion and nutmeg. At one store Harry picked up a couple chicken breasts. Hands full, he made his way to the hotel building, calling out a greeting to the door man.

Inside, Harry put his bags on the kitchen table and rubbed his hands together. The kitchen was nice, but it was designed for an average cooker, which Harry was most definitely not. A few appliances needed moved around, the sink was white and shallow, the stove electric, and the countertop was marble (a pretty stone, but not practical in Harry's opinion.) Harry took off his coat, hung it on the back of a kitchen chair, pulled his wand out of his ankle holster and got to work magically rearranging the kitchen.

He heard once that remodels could take weeks to months for muggles and felt a little sad for them. With a few spells the sink changed from two white tubs into one deep stainless steel tub. The stove shimmered and turned into an eight burner gas stove, expanding the counter to the left three inches. At the same time the marble rippled like water, replaced with granite when the ripples ceased. There were a few other cosmetics changes that Harry made, mostly turning the off white cabinets into a matte grey that complimented the living room. When the kitchen was done to his tastes he pulled out the small bag from his old flat and cast accio on some pots, pans and spices, including Harry's medicine collection. Most items zoomed to the cupboards for their new home, but a few pots and pans stayed out for Harry to cook on. Happily he began preparing dinner and with a combination of manual and magical work the butternut squash soup (a lovely shade of butterscotch) simmered in a pot while the chicken breasts baked on low in the oven.

Impressed with himself, Harry turned his attention to the living room. Draco liked the contrast between black and white and sharp clean lines. A bit of blue broke up the monotony as evident in the sculptures and art decorating the room. It was sparse though, only the single long couch that faced the quartz fireplace. There was a flat screen television above the mantle, but Harry suspected that it came with the penthouse. He'd never once seen Draco watch the telly or mention any shows. Harry _accio'd_ his recliner out of the bag and placed it next to the couch at a ninety degree angle. That way if he sat in it Harry would still be able to see the couch and most of the flat. Only thing was, his recliner was brown and Harry saw immediately that it would clash with the rest of the decor. Well, easy fix. He transfigured the brown suede leather into black. And now for the final act. Harry cast _accio _on the grandfather clock and maneuvered it next to the door, just on the other side of a small table that Draco kept there. Harry cast _tempus _to make sure the time was set correctly and gave the pendulum a push. Soon the _tick tock tick tock _filled the entire flat. Draco was going to flip and Harry knew it. It was past seven; he'd probably be home soon. Harry hurried into the bedroom. If he saw Draco's expression when he noticed the clock there was no way Harry would be able to keep a straight face.

To kill some time, Harry decided to unpack his clothes from his magical bag. In order to do that, some extra closet space was needed. So once again he used his wand to make some modifications. This was easier: move the current closet over about five feet (it was in the middle of the wall now) and then add another closet. Easy. Harry pulled his clothes out of the bag and placed them on the bed, deciding he would do this one chore by hand as he waited. It wasn't long before he heard the door open. He tilted his head, waiting, listening.

The door closed and there was the briefest pause before Harry heard a low muttered curse. "Oh fuck no. Harry!" Draco yelled for him and Harry schooled his face into innocence as he came into the living room.

"Hey! Welcome home."

Draco looked flustered as he pointed to the clock. "You can't be serious, Harry. You know I hate that thing!"

Harry frowned, still pretending. "You said I could bring my things."

"Yes...but I thought you meant your chair."

"I did." Harry pointed to the chair with a proud grin. "And the clock."

Draco took a deep, calming, breath and put his hands on Harry's shoulder, looking him in the eye. "But why the clock!?"

"Oh, it's not _that _bad," Harry lightly hugged Draco and stepped back. "I don't complain about...whatever this is." Harry randomly pointed to a blue and white vase with intricate dragons painted on all sides.

"That's a Ming vase, Harry." Draco rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You can't compare that to a noisy, ticking monstrosity."

Harry had to turn away quickly before Draco saw the grin break free on his face. Draco was unintentionally funny, his dry reply made it hard for Harry to keep up the charade. Turning his back had been a desperate attempt to keep from laughing, but it had a different effect on Draco. Harry heard him take a deep breath and release it; the sound someone made when they thought they had gone too far and was about to make amends.

Draco came behind Harry and lightly touched his shoulder. "If it means that much to you, I can try to live with it."

That was unexpected. Harry expected Draco to fight harder than this. He turned around, wide eyed. "You mean that?"

"Ugh, yes. I suppose so." Each word was begrudgingly said.

It was such a touching gesture that Harry kissed Draco and then laughed, no longer able to hold back the joke. "I can't believe you gave in so quickly!"

"What?" Draco blinked, confused. In a second, Draco caught on. "Harry, you tosser!"

Harry was laughing as he wrapped his arms around Draco. After a moment of debating whether or not he was seriously mad at Harry, Draco decided, no, he wasn't, and returned the embrace. Harry kissed Draco's lips still smiling. "I never thought you'd agree to keeping that. Never."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Well, before you go on thinking I'm a saint, you should know I was already planning some horrible accident to destroy it."

Harry just laughed harder. "Hold on." He went to retrieve his wand and then shrank the clock, snatching it from the air. "There." The clock was the size of Harry's palm now and he held it up for Draco to see.

Draco had a half smile on his lips. "Well played, Harry. I'm impressed."

"Thank you." Harry gave a little half bow. "Now come see what else I did."

Harry took Draco by the hand and showed the alterations to the kitchen. Draco seemed pleased, though Harry had a sneaking suspicion he was just humoring him. Oh well. He _was _intrigued by dinner though. Then Harry showed Draco the new closet arrangements. That impressed him more. Draco had been prepared to share his space with Harry; two full closets was a much better idea. Harry had agreed, knowing that Draco was a bit of a clothes whore (though he kept that opinion to himself with a grin).

They were walking down the small hall when Draco snuck a hand under Harry's shirt and pulled him backward into a hug. Draco didn't say anything, just held him, chin resting on Harry's left shoulder and two cool hands wrapped around his waist. Harry covered Draco's arms with his own. "You alright?" Harry asked softly.

Draco hummed an affirmative. "I'm happy, Harry." He kissed Harry's temple, still holding him. "That's rare for me."

Harry felt like Draco had more to say, so he stayed quiet, leaning back.

Eventually Draco squeezed him and released him. "I just wanted to hold on to the moment."

Harry turned and caressed Draco's face with the back of his hand. "There will be more." Draco kissed Harry's palm with a smile. At the same time a bing in the kitchen sounded off. "Come one, let's eat."

Sometime later Harry was full. The soup had been delicious, the chicken tender and juicy, but he noticed that Draco had only taken a few bites of his chicken. He'd eaten the soup though. Harry mentally shrugged it off as he cleared off the table and manually began cleaning the dishes, ignoring the exasperated look Draco gave him. For some reason, Harry actually enjoyed washing dishes. He took a moment to point at the invite on the small table by the door. "So, Ron and Hermione have officially invited you to their anniversary party this weekend."

"You mean Hermione has." Draco said pointedly.

"Well, yes, but Ron went along with it. That's progress, right?"

Drace shrugged elegantly.

"She likes you. Apparently you helped her with a language riddle." Harry purposely made the statement sound like a question. He had been curious when Ron mentioned it, and now wanted to know what it meant.

Draco drank his wine. "When I went to Hermione's office she had been working on Dwarvish languages and I pointed out one wasn't Dwarvish at all. She's a smart witch; she would have figured it out eventually."

Harry dried his hands, dishes finished, and returned to his seat at the table facing Draco. That reminded Harry of more questions. "Is it true you had top marks on your O.W.L.s? And where did you learn to speak French?"

"More Twenty Questions?" He asked with an amused lift of the eyebrows.

Harry leaned back and fixed Draco with a stare. He was learning that Draco was great at avoiding answering questions by distracting him. Harry wasn't biting. He'd wait.

"Why do you even want to know?"

Another stalling tactic and Harry crossed his arms, conveying with a look that he wasn't fooled. Draco really did _not _like talking about the past sometimes, but with a large sigh Harry knew he'd won this round.

"Fine." Draco sounded irritated, but only mildly so. He stood and gestured for Harry to follow him to the couch, stretching and pulling a sweater vest off as he walked. Draco kicked off his shoes and flopped on the couch, though flopped wasn't quite the right word. Draco had a way of lounging effortlessly. Harry sat on the other end of the couch, covering Draco's feet with his. Draco smiled briefly. "The O.W.L.s seem a long time ago, but yes, I had top marks. Just below Hermione overall, but top of Slytherin. Surprised?"

"Impressed. I didn't know you actually did well in school."

"Ouch."

"Sorry, that's not what I meant."

Draco chuckled. "I know what you meant. You had no reason to pay attention to my grades, Harry. We weren't exactly on speaking terms most of the time. And as for French, that was my father's insistence. I had private tutors before Hogwarts; French, Latin, a bit of Greek...my father had high expectations. I spent most of the time alone studying. My father liked to surprise me with questions. Get them right...or...well, get them right. I learned rather fast that getting them wrong led to nasty consequences."

This was new information. Harry never guessed Draco would have been under so much pressure from his father. But then again, this _was _Lucius Malfoy. "What kind of consequences?" Harry asked softly.

"Oh, sometimes the regular 'Bed without dinner'." Draco ran his fingers through his hair. "Sometimes a night in the dungeon, sometimes...well, you get the picture."

Harry was astonished. He had no idea. Malfoy always seemed to spoiled, so privileged; no one would have guessed he had so much pressure on him. There was an ominous suggestion trailing at the end of Draco's statement that Harry wanted fleshed out. "Did he hit you Draco?"

"Never where it showed." He answered quickly, with a bit of anger flashing in his silver eyes. "Anyway, like I said: I learned to get the answers right." Draco tilted his head to the side. "What was primary like for you, Harry?"

"Hell."

Draco laughed out loud. "Come on, it couldn't have been as bad as mine."

"Well, let me see," Harry thought back. "I was small for my age. That happens when you're barely given food. Next to my cousin I looked two or three grade levels below him, even though we were the same age. I tried making friends, but Dudley had a way of bullying anyone who dared to approach me. Consequently, I spent a lot of time alone as well. I was constantly blamed for anything and everything and sent to my cupboard."

"Harry…" Draco wasn't laughing now. Instead he stood in that beautiful fluid way of his and kneeled near Harry, touching his arm.

Harry hadn't expected those old feelings to hurt so much. He'd thought he had buried them away. Now Harry realized he had buried them, but in doing so hadn't dealt with the feelings. A floodgate had opened though; he wanted to spill all his thoughts to a pair of compassionate silver eyes. "Did you know, I had no idea I was a wizard. Things just _happened _to me. My aunt and uncle would scream at me and punish me. That meant I got locked in my cupboard. I think I spent a week in there once with only the spiders for company."

Draco's expression had darkened into a sinister scowl. "Seriously, Harry, just let me know where they live."

"No, thanks for the offer though." Harry shook his head trying hard not to be alarmed by the murderous suggestion in Draco's tone. Draco's reaction to his aunt and uncle was how Harry felt toward Lucius Malfoy when Draco admitted he had been hit by his father. He understood the impulse. "We're quite a pair, aren't we?" He sat up and kissed Draco. "It's late, and I'm getting tired." And he was starting to understand why Draco disliked talking about the past. It didn't change anything, it only dredged up bitter memories, draining your energy.

"Harry…" Draco stood, extending a hand to Harry with a concerned tone in his voice.

"I'm fine," Harry replied as he took the proffered hand. "I have you now. I'm not alone anymore."

Draco held him. "No, you're not alone." A pause, "And neither am I."

They dressed and readied for bed in a quiet, reflective silence. Draco seemed to have a hard time not touching Harry. Small touches, a brush of his hand against Harry's hand, or the back of his neck, his sides, brief and gentle caresses that conveyed a single message over and over again in wordless communication: _I love you_. Harry felt Draco's love all around him and he returned these touches with soft smiles.

Draco was in bed first, lounging against the headboard with his hands behind his head, bare chest pale in the dim lamp light, legs already under the purple silk covers. He only had his light on as he watched Harry undress for bed with a strange gleam in his eye. It wasn't desire, Harry could recognize that look. This was something else, something intense. Harry stripped to his boxers and climbed into bed, meeting Draco's stare. "What are you thinking?"

"That I love you." Draco clicked off the light as Harry joined him by the headboard.

"What else?"

"That I always want you happy."

Harry turned on his side and wrapped his arms around Draco. "What else?"

Harry felt Draco give a small laugh in his chest. "That I never want you to go away."

Harry tightened his hold and then released Draco so he could lay down on his pillows. Harry rearranged himself so he was tucked next to Draco, head on his chest, one arm and one leg draped over him. Draco was rubbing his back in that wonderful, soothing motion and Harry felt happy, safe, loved, and relaxed. He kissed Draco's chest. "I feel the same way too." And then he let Draco's fingers on his spine lull him to sleep.

The next few days passed in a blur. Harry and Draco had already found a routine and now they settled into it happily. The pattern of waking with each other, working apart, and then sleeping together became a wonderful rhythm in which they lived. As that part of their lives solidified, so did their love and happiness. It was truly the happiest Harry had been in a long time.

He and Draco had gone out Friday evening. First dinner and then for drinks down at the hotel's pub. Draco for once wasn't dressed all in black and instead wore skinny black jeans and an olive sweater. It didn't matter what Harry wore; he'd always look plain next to Draco, but he at least tried with a dark blue polo and dark jeans. At the bar Harry had a beer; Draco ordered Jack and Coke. A soccer match was playing on three large televisions above the display of alcohols and he and Draco were taking friendly jibes at each other as the teams played. The pub had a good amount of people visiting the establishment. Like the entryway, the pub was covered with wooden panels. A faint remnant of cigarette smoke would always linger even though smoking was no longer allowed; the smell was trapped in the pores of all the wood. Large comfortable chairs dotted the space with small tables for drinks. Most of those chairs were full with either patrons of the hotel or just people from the neighborhood out for drinks. It was noisy, but comfortable.

Draco was in a good mood; laughing and joking with Harry despite the crowded bar. Maybe he felt more comfortable since they were in his building, maybe it was because he was ahead of schedule. Either way, his mood was contagious and Harry found himself matching Draco's playful attitude. Several drinks into their evening Draco spotted a dart board and a devilish twinkle lit up his eyes. "Play a match Harry? We can make a wager."

Harry swallowed his beer. "I'm rubbish at darts."

"Scared?" Draco was taunting him, provoking him with that haughty superior look he pulled off so well.

Harry knew he shouldn't rise to the occasion, but this was Draco. Harry had never been able to say no to a challenge by Draco. "Alright. What's the wager?" Draco grinned and whispered a few words into Harry's ear that made his cheeks go red. The bartender hadn't been paying them much attention but his eyebrows lifted in curiosity at Harry's expression. "You're on."

They weren't going to play a full game, but rather had three darts each. According to Draco's whispered suggestion, the person with the highest number got a sexual favor. Honestly, it was a win win situation.

Draco went first, throwing his three darts in quick succession: 20, 20, Bull. He gave Harry a smug look. "See if you can do better."

Harry shook his head. He'd never been one to play darts. He couldn't even remember the last time he _threw _one. Still, he got up to the line, took a dart, aimed and let it fly. With a solid sound his dart found the green around the bull.

Draco's mouth dropped. "Lucky shot. Go again."

So, Harry took his next dart, aimed and released. _Thunk. _Double Bull.

"Son of a bitch, Harry. You damn shark." Draco crossed his arms, looking half impressed half scandalized.

Harry laughed, hands up in defense. "I promise, I have no idea what I'm doing." Last dart. Harry followed his same movement and threw the dart. It landed next to his previous dart, smack in the red. There were a few scattered applause from the bar patrons.

Draco glared at him. "I feel I've been cheated."

Harry grinned. "I'll make it up to you." Harry's grin broadened into a full smile. "Or rather, you'll make up for it."

That at least changed Draco's expression. Harry knew he was competitive and hated to lose, but Draco manage to shrug off the defeat with good grace. He went back to the bar to finish his drink, muttering under his breath. "Rubbish at darts, he says. 'I have no idea what I'm doing'."

"Hey!" Harry lightly pushed Draco even though his impression was pretty spot on. Draco winked at him, a brief exchange to let Harry know he was just teasing. It helped, and Harry sat next to him to finish his beer. Harry found an opportunity to question Draco about attending Ron and Hermione's party. He'd been asking, hinting all week for an answer, but Draco was amazing at avoiding topics he didn't want to talk about. It was an impressive skill that irritated and amused Harry in equal parts. Now though, he had Draco corned at the bar. "So," Harry started innocently enough, "have you thought about the party?"

"I've thought about it," Draco answered as he glanced at Harry from the side.

Harry rolled his eyes. Alright, fine. That's how he was going to be. Harry would be more direct then. "Are you going to go with me or not?"

Draco hesitated, slowly turning his glass in a circle on the bartop. "Would you be angry if I didn't go?"

"No." Harry answered honestly. If the tables were turned and Draco asked him to go to a party with _his _old schoolmates Harry would have laughed in his face. However, it was a little different; Harry's friends never tried to outright kill Draco either.

"But you want me to go?" Draco still wasn't facing Harry. Instead, he was sneaking sideways glances at him.

Harry sighed. "Of course I want you to go." Harry touched Draco's shoulder. "I always want you with me." He smiled, "It'll be fun."

"I think 'agonizing' is the word you're looking for." Draco finally turned toward Harry. Despite his tone his expression was soft, grey eyes sparkling. Harry knew then that he'd go, even if he didn't want to. He'd go because it meant a lot to Harry. That devotion, that willingness to put Harry's happiness before his own was one reason Harry loved Draco so much.

Harry swallowed the last of his beer and stretched off the barstool. Once his feet were on the ground he moved closer to Draco until only a breath of air was between them. Harry leaned in and whispered in Draco's ear. "Thank you. Now let's get out of here so I can get you out of those clothes."

Draco turned into him, his lips close to Harry's lips and Harry saw him struggle against the urge to just kiss him, spectators be damned. Harry figured they were putting on quite a show if anyone was paying attention. He wondered what people saw from the outside. There couldn't be much doubt of he and Draco's relationship, even if they weren't exhibitionists. Draco made a decision, kissing Harry thoroughly for the briefest moment before breaking away. "Hey, Scott." Draco yelled at the barkeep though he kept his eyes on Harry. "Put these on my tab."

"Sure thing, Mr. Black."

Harry didn't bother looking at the man as he answered, his eyes were firmly focused on Draco. Draco swiftly finished his drink and stood. The silver in his eyes dark with desire. He didn't say anything, but gestured toward the lobby, one hand on Harry's elbow. Harry let him guide him to the lift. No one was around to see Draco press up against Harry, holding his ass until the lift arrived. In the lift Draco surprisingly gave Harry space, but he was still watching him, staring at him. Harry smiled as the lift climbed through the floors.

The doors of the lift opened and Draco was all over Harry, hands under his shirt, lips on his lips. In the flat, Harry lost his shirt, Draco pulling it up and off as they made their way to their bedroom. Shoes were off, and Draco was pulling Harry, a trail of clothing on the floor in their wake.

In a flurry of passionate kisses and hot touches Harry soon found himself naked in the middle of the bed. It was dark, only the hint of light from the blinds kept the room from being pitch black. Harry could see Draco, nude as well, pause at the foot of the bed. "So, have you thought of your reward?" Draco asked in the bedroom. Harry could tell he was trying to be casual, but there was a hidden tension beneath the words. He was as anxious to know as curious.

Harry could only think of one thing he really wanted. One thing they hadn't tried but that Harry was curious as hell about. With a deep breath and nervous flutter in his stomach, Harry got on his hands and knees facing away from Draco. He swallowed, suddenly nervous. Though he'd been sleeping with Draco fairly often he'd always faced him. This would be new and it required trust on Harry's part. Harry took another breath and glanced over his shoulder. "Just you, Draco."

A flicker of emotions crossed Draco's face and then Harry turned around, waiting. He felt the bed dip, knew Draco was there. It was strange not being able to see him, strange and erotic. Just wondering, just the anticipation, it started to make Harry hard. Cool hands touched him on either side of thighs, moving past his waist, his chest, all in one smooth motion. Draco's fingers left a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Draco was leaning into him, Harry could feel his arousal, but he seemed content to place kisses at Harry's shoulder blades, those same cool fingers roaming his body, even occasionally grasping Harry's hard on. Somewhere during Draco's attention Harry realized what he was doing. He was relaxing him, trying to ease some of the tension that Harry had inadvertently been holding on to. Harry sighed, content, and that seemed to be what Draco was waiting for.

Harry was used to sleeping with Draco, used to having sex with him, but he was unprepared for the sensation of Draco entering him from behind. Harry cried out, a mixture of pain and pleasure that gave way to pure pleasure the further Draco went. And when Draco started moving in him, Harry was gone. Lost in a beautiful rhythm, lost in new sensations. Draco reached around and used one hand on Harry's arousal, using one movement to thrust inside Harry and to bring Harry to release. It was sensory overload. Harry didn't know whether he was coming or going. Every inch of his body was awake, alive, tingling. Draco continued his long strokes, and Harry felt him lightly bite his shoulder, whispering endearments in his ear. Harry shuddered and then came, crying out as Draco sped up. _Oh, Merlin_. Harry didn't know how much he could handle. He wanted to cry, he wanted to drown, he wanted to melt, he wanted Draco to never stop and he wanted to feel Draco come inside him. His hands were holding the sheets, he felt Draco's hands holding his sides and still he moved and moved. There was a change, a pressure, a push. Harry knew he hadn't been quiet, but he had long since tried to make sense of what he was saying or gasping. But he knew this. He could feel Draco welling up inside him, both sexually and in that special place in his heart. It was like a door opened and Draco's emotions cascaded over Harry in waves. Harry gasped out and then Draco was physically coming, chasing the feelings that had already encircled Harry. He wondered if Draco could feel it too.

"Yes." Draco answered breathlessly as he finished with one last powerful thrust. "Yes, I can feel it."

Harry hadn't asked that out loud.

Draco pulled out, and like a great release Harry collapsed on the bed, arms no longer able to hold him. Draco fell on him, breathing heavy. "Harry?"

He was worried, concerned. Harry could feel it and hear it. "I'm alright." Harry didn't just _say _it, he tried to convey it too, that special window into Draco still open. It was like a radio or a television, but only tuned into Draco. Harry could feel his relief, feel his love, feel _all _his feelings. The longing, the desire, the need to love Harry and protect him. Harry moved to his side, Draco moving a split second before him, like he anticipated it. "_Draco_." Cool arms collected him in a tight embrace, both lying on their side. "_Draco_." Harry wasn't even sure what he was trying to get out, what he was trying to say.

Draco caressed his cheek, kissed his salty lips. "I know, Harry." He put his hand on Harry's heart and Harry copied the movement until the door closed and Harry was Harry again and Draco was Draco. In the darkness Harry could just make out the swirling of clouds in Draco's eyes and knew that the forest was reflecting back from his. Draco pulled Harry closer and the covers over them in one smooth motion. Draco tapped the spot over his own heart. "I can still feel you, Harry. It's faint, but there...a whisper of you."

Harry shut his eyes and concentrated. The door was closed, Harry wasn't getting Draco's thoughts and emotions on full blast, but Draco was right. It was like a tiny crack was still open and through that crack he could still feel Draco's presence. He decided to push all he was feeling through that tiny space, curious to see if what they were feeling was real and not some trick of the mind.

Draco laughed a little, low and quiet and at the same time brought his arms around Harry. "It's not a trick. It's real. And...maybe we _should _look into this."

"About time. Damn, you're stubborn." Harry kissed Draco's chest. "And wonderful." Harry yawned, torn between needing a shower and staying where he was. "If I said I wanted a shower, would you object?"

"Depends," Draco answered as he rubbed Harry's back.

Harry sat up, head tilted to the side. "On what?"

"Do I get to join you?"

With a grin Harry got out of bed and crooked his finger for Draco to follow. After their lovemaking, the shower was relaxing and soothing. A way to reaffirm that their relationship was based on more than just sex, no matter how amazing that sex was. A while later they were back in bed, but not before Draco cast a quick cleaning spell; their sheets were filthy. Sleep was welcome and waiting; Harry gladly welcomed its embrace as he welcomed Draco's.

Draco feigned sleep. He focused on his breathing until he had long deep breaths in and out. Harry was curled next to him, head resting on his chest rising and falling with his breathing. A tan arm was across him, warm fingers resting lightly on his shoulder. One of Harry's legs crossed his own, and it was like this that they spent most of their nights. Draco listened to Harry sleep, wondering what he had ever done in his life to deserve him. Draco couldn't think of anything. He could think of several reasons why Harry _shouldn't_ love him, but he struggled for a reason why Harry was here, in his arms. All he knew was that Harry _did _love him. Draco had felt it surround him like an embrace. He only hoped that he was deserving.

That strange connection had been growing between them. At first it had taken form as that forest. Now it was more, stronger. Even asleep Draco could feel Harry's presence. Right above his heart, Harry was there. It filled Draco with warmth and peace. And fear. He worried what this connection, this bond, meant. Seeing a magical forest, sharing a vision, though not normal, wasn't exactly out of the realm for wizard lovers. But feeling their thoughts, their emotions, that implied a deeper bond that worried Draco. Draco remembered reading through an old book long ago on magical bonds.

_It was during summer when Draco was around thirteen and Draco had been bored. Most of the books in the family library he had already read and memorized, so he went hunting for different books. He knew he shouldn't have gone into his father's personal library, but as luck would have it his father would be at the Ministry all day. Who knew where his mother was. Draco never knew where his mother was. He shrugged off that thought, focusing as he quietly snuck into his father's office. The room had row upon rows of built in bookcases and Draco bit his lip as he looked around. He knew there were dark magic tomes in here, but Draco had been able to tell the difference between a harmless artifact and a dangerous artifact at a young age. You had to in the Malfoy home. Carefully he picked a couple books, avoiding ones that had a "sick" feeling around them. Those were usually dark magic and protected anyway. Instead he grabbed two books, one titled __The Unbiased Truths of the Lesser Muggle_ _and the other __One Hundred and One Ways to Form Connections._ _It was the second title that caught young Draco's attention. Maybe it was because he was always alone, maybe because he found it hard to make friends, or impress his father, or even garner the attention of his mother; whatever is was, he sat on the floor in his father's library and soaked up the information. He had lost track time, absorbed in the different and various ways wizards could magically form bonds. That had been his mistake. The doors to the office slammed open and Lucius Malfoy stood in the doorway, looking down at his son. Black robes billowed around Lucius' form, his blue eyes flashing in anger. Draco had tried to explain what he was doing, but a wordless spell robbed him of his voice. No one heard Draco cry out as his father's cane came down on his shoulder. Draco had tried to run, but Lucius was quicker, grabbing him by the hair and throwing him down. Each hit was a reminder: he was powerless. That one book was still open to a page that Draco hadn't finished reading. A page that talked about a wonderful kind of bond. One where love was the connection and once found could never be destroyed. Draco desperately wanted to know what that would be like. He kept his eyes on that page until his vision blurred from the pain. Then he had a bitter realization. Love, whatever that word meant to some, would never be something he experienced. Draco would have to settle for obedience, loyalty, fealty to his father. Love was an illusion, a weakness. His father was telling him so with each repeated blow until Draco came to believe it. One last hit from his father blacked out his vision and he knew no more._

The memory filled him with trepidation. Draco had all but forgotten it, had pushed it down and away. That had been the only way he could survive. He had needed to live a lie: He was Draco Malfoy, son and proud Heir of the Malfoy line. Some distance and maturing had shown Draco how much damage his father had done to him. He had been willing to betray his school, kill his headmaster, take the Dark Mark and all to hopefully earn what he thought was the love of his father. Draco felt a bit sick.

Harry stirred suddenly, sitting up to look at Draco with sleepy eyes and a frown. "Are you alright?"

Draco tried to reign in his thoughts. "Yeah. Go back to sleep."

Harry paused, gently brushing his thumb under Draco's right eye. To both of their surprise it came away slightly wet. "Want to talk about it?" Harry asked softly.

"It's just bad memories, Harry." Draco used the back of his hand to erase anymore liquid evidence.

"Can I help?"

Draco reached for Harry, pulling him so he lay on top of him and wrapped his arms around him, holding him tight. "You already are. Now go back to sleep. I'm sorry I woke you."

Harry was quiet, but Draco could tell he was still awake, fighting the urge to fall back asleep. After several moments Harry finally sighed. "I love you, Draco."

"I know." Draco smiled in the dark. "And it means the world to me." He kept his thoughts clear until Harry was asleep again, only then did he think back.

He needed to look at that book again and read what it said. Which meant a trip to the Manor was in order. It had been years since Draco stepped foot on the Malfoy grounds, not since the Death Eater attack. He knew his parents hadn't been back in a long time. He figured the library would still be in one piece. He wanted to find that book and read the rest of that chapter, the chapter on Soul Bonds.


	18. Chapter 18: What's in a Name

**What's in a Name...**

Draco never managed to fall deep asleep. Instead he dozed, only to be awoken throughout the night by a paralyzing fear that Harry was gone and Draco was all alone. Even when he felt Harry's arms around him it took Draco a long time to remember where he was and who he was with. It was those moments when he would focus on that special feeling above his heart, that special place where he could feel Harry. Then he would calm down, allow Harry's presence to soothe his frayed nerves. Maybe it was the idea of going back home that upset Draco so much. Or maybe he was still struggling with the idea that he could be loved. Whatever it was, Draco was awake when Harry started to ease out of slumber.

Green eyes, dark with sleep, met his as Harry sat up, glancing down at Draco with a worried wrinkle between his brow. "You're still not alright."

Draco didn't know if he was irritated that Harry could read him so well or touched. He settled for touched. "I'll be ok."

"And you still don't want to talk about it?"

Draco rubbed Harry's sides, taking comfort in the physical touch. "No, but thank you." Draco loved the feel of Harry's skin, so warm and smooth. "Maybe one day, Harry."

Harry held Draco's arms with his hands. "I'll be here." Harry leaned down and kissed the side of Draco's mouth. "But I need to get busy. I have a lot of prep to do for the party tonight." He got off the bed, stalling as he watched Draco sit up, unspoken concern in his eyes.

Draco smiled. "Go. I'll be fine. What time should I be ready?"

"Party's at six, so five?"

Draco nodded and watched as Harry hurriedly dressed in a clean chef's outfit.

Before he left the room Harry glanced once more at Draco. Draco could tell he was warring with himself, fighting the urge to say something, but eventually he just gave a soft smile. "I'll see you later, ok?"

Draco waved. He waited until he heard the door to the flat open and close before climbing out of bed. Absentmindedly he dressed; black slacks and a black turtleneck, which may or may not have been Harry's. Once he was ready for the day he grabbed his wand and apparated to Malfoy Manor.

The Manor stood like it had for centuries in the middle of sculptured shrubs and lush landscaping. The fountains could still be heard, the sound of water trickling and bubbling the only sound from miles. The rows of windows were dark, staring at Draco like empty eyes of a skull. Draco had never been afraid of the old house before, and fear wasn't quite what he was feeling, but he was uneasy. Nonetheless, he took a deep breath and walked down the courtyard until he climbed the few steps to the large front doors. They opened on their own; Draco half expected to be locked out, but he took the doors opening as a sign: Even if Draco didn't consider the Manor his home anymore, the Manor recognized him.

Inside the marble entryway was cold, sterile. Many of the paintings and tapestries that hung there to add color and history to the place had been confiscated by the Aurors for one dubious reason or the other. Even the torches were gone. What purpose did the Ministry have for charmed torches, Draco thought bitterly. He made his way up the flight of stairs to the main house, saddened by how much was missing. Several of his ancestor's portraits were absent from the walls. The fireplace was empty, pieces of furniture that remained were covered with white sheets. The whole house felt empty. Draco hurried past the drawing room. There were no pleasant memories there, and instead found the small passage that led to his father's study.

The black doors were closed. Draco could sense wards barring the way. Wards that he would have to deal with. He rolled up his right sleeve, wand in hand, and prepared to counter the spells when he felt a slight tug on his pants. Draco was startled. He thought the house was abandoned. Looking down he saw a long eared and long nosed creature with watery eyes. It bowed. Hell, a house-elf. Why in the world were the house-elves were still here? He would have thought his father or mother would have freed them. But then again, no. Why would they ever do something like that.

"Young Master," the creature began with a squeaky voice. "Master will be angry with you if you enter Master's room."

"Yeah?" Draco said with a scoff. "Let him be angry. I'm only after a book."

"But, but, Tink is to be guarding the house." The elf looked nervous, unsure what to do.

"I'm not going to hurt anything. I just want a book. Understand?" Little hands were wringing together. Draco sighed. "Maybe you could do me a favor."

"Serve the Young Master?" Now Draco had the elf's attention. They only lived to serve their masters. Draco imagined their house-elves had been pretty bored lately.

"Yes." Draco bent down. "Deep in the wine cellar is a cask of whiskey. Bring me a glass on the rocks." The elf paused, contemplating if this was a command it could follow.

Eventually the elf bowed, "Yes, Young Master." And with a snap of its fingers disappeared.

That should give Draco some time. There wasn't _one _barrel of whiskey down in the cellars, there was _hundreds. _Let the elf figure out which one he meant. He turned his attention back to the warded doors. It would take too long to break down the spells, too long and too much energy. What Draco had in mind was a little sneaker, a little trickier. Oddly, it was something his own father had shown him. If you couldn't break the wards, bend them. Draco began weaving a spell, imagining magical fingers squeezing into the seams of the wards. The door lit up with a vibrant red and in the center a tiny fissure of blue; Draco's magic. Draco concentrated, small beads of sweat ran down his temple. Physically he put his hands together and pulled, the blue fissure widening as Draco widened his hands. He struggled, but eventually a space large enough for him to fit through was outlined in dark blue magic. The rest of the door pulsed an angry crimson. Slightly out of breath Draco ducked through the hole he had made.

Most of his father's library seemed untouched, but Draco noticed large gaps in the bookshelves where remaining books leaned left or right, tale-tell signs that books had been removed. Now that Draco looked closer, entire rows had been cleared out. He hoped what he was looking for was deemed inconsequential enough to leave behind. Draco couldn't cast _accio_, not while holding the wards open, so manually he began his search. A quarter of the way through the first panel the house-elf reappeared with Draco's whiskey.

It was shocked as it came into the room. "Shame on Young Master! Shouldn't trick Tink, shouldn't be in here!" And yet it handed Draco the whiskey with a small bow all the same.

"Well, now we're in here together. Tattle on me, and I'll tattle on you." Draco sipped his glass. It was a very good year.

The house-elf's eyes widened. "Young Master is heartless!" Then, as if it realized what it had said, it began banging its head on the floor.

Draco rolled his eyes and nudged the elf with his foot, not enough to hurt it, but enough to get its attention. "Look, help me find what I'm after and then we can _both _get out of here. Our little secret."

The house elf worked its mouth. "No tell the Master?"

"No tell the Master." Draco made a show of crossing his heart, unsure if the creature even understood the gesture. It must have helped, because it straightened itself off the floor.

"What does the Young Master seek?"

"A book on bonds titled One Hundred and One Ways to Form Connections. Can you find it?"

"Yes, Young Master."

The effort of holding the wards open was taking a toll on Draco. Using magic was similar to using muscles, and Draco hadn't exercised in a while. The house-elf searched as he sat criss crossed on the floor, afraid to sit in his father's chair. Who knew what curses guarded _that_ leather throne. He sipped his whiskey and focused on keeping the wards open. The red magic pulsed and tried to expand, threatening Draco's spell. The blue flickered; Draco was forced to throw more energy at it, stabilizing the bend. How much longer he could hold it was up for debate.

Thankfully he heard the elf give an excited squeal. "Found it, Young Master. Found it!" It brought the book over to Draco, struggling under its weight.

Sure enough, Draco was holding One Hundred and One Ways to Form Connections. He handed it back to the house elf as he got back to his feet. "Good work. Now, through the doorway you go."

"Take book?"

"Yes, take book." On a second thought Draco handed the elf his glass of whiskey as well.

The elf hesitated. "Book belong to Master. Shouldn't leave the Manor."

Draco ground his teeth, wand in hand. His father's wards were actively fighting him now, slowly ebbing away his magic like it figured out what Draco had done. "I won't take it out of the Manor, I promise. Now just go!" With a wide, frightened expression the elf held the book and the whiskey and ran through the hole. Draco backed out after him. It was stupid to just let a spell collapse, so he called the energy back into him, slowly unweaving the spell with the same care he took in creating it. The blue magic shrank until it was one tiny prick of light. Draco called it back and the red of the wards slammed down, closing the bend. The force of the magic knocked Draco down to a knee.

"Shit." He was impressed with his father's wards.

"Young Master should not use such language in his father's house."

"Sorry." Draco didn't in the least mean the apology. "Here, give me those." He pocketed his wand and took the book and the whiskey from the elf, glancing around for a comfortable place to read.

"Tink can ready Young Master's room." The elf offered helpfully.

Draco shook his head. "No, I won't be staying. What shape is the sitting room?"

"Tink can have it ready in a blink." And with another snap the elf was gone.

True to its word, but the time Draco crossed wings of the Manor, the sitting room was ready. The comfortable sofas and chairs had been uncovered, the thick velvet curtains had been pulled back letting the grey daylight in. The small fireplace had been lit and the fire crackled and popped as it warmed the room. Draco had a few memories of his mother in this room, doing needlepoint in a chair. Those memories seemed from a different life.

Draco chose an oversized chair near the fire to sit, lounging sideways even though the elf gave him a stern frown. He'd keep his shoes off the furniture; he wasn't a monster. Finally, he opened the book, flipping past a few pages that rustled like dry leaves until he came to an index. Draco skimmed down: _Love Bonds, Marriage Bonds, Twin Bonds, Unbreakable Bonds..._Too far. He turned back a page, slowing down until he spotted _Soul Bonds: Pages 435. _With a heave, Draco flipped to the back of the book; 699, 500, 440, 435. Found it. _Soul Bonds. _He settled down to read.

_Of the more rare and powerful bonds, Soul Bonds happen when a witch and a wizard have abnormally strong feelings for one another. Love is a prerequisite. Most Soul Bonds require a spell between the ones that wish to be bonded. In these cases a third person who is trusted by both witch and wizard performs the spell and acts as a witness. Blood, hair, and saliva are collected from the bonded and mixed together. A cut is opened on both palms and the witness smears the mixture into the cuts. The bonded hold hands as an incantation is read. After the ceremony the newly bonded couple may experience new sensations, such as empathy. _

Draco frowned. That didn't match he and Harry at all. He skipped down a few paragraphs, stopping when he read something about pure-blooded wizards. That caused him to pause, backing up to the paragraph before.

_Pure blooded wizards and witches have the ability to soul bond without a spell, though this is extremely rare; rarer than any Soul Bond. The last known instance of this kind of bond was in 1483. _Draco skipped down, he didn't particularly who was the last known. He had a suspicion that record was about to change. _When a pure blooded soul bonds no spells are necessary. The pure blooded witch or wizard must love completely, willing to sacrifice his or her own life for the one they love. Their chosen soul bond must share these feelings unequivocally in order for the bond to happen. In the past, pure bloods who bonded spoke of a special and secret connection; of a place unique and known only to the two bonded. Strong empathy existed between the pure blood and their bond. Once a bond was recognized and accepted between the two, they would be tied together in life and death. A bond created by spell could be broken with minimal side effects to either party. A pure blooded bond is permanent. In most cases when one pair of the bond dies, the other is not far behind._

Draco slammed the book shut. "Shit." He was breathing deeply, his hands were shaking. A million thoughts came at Draco simultaneously. _Harry loves me. I love Harry. Harry loves me...and I've killed him._ _This is my fault; I'm the pure blood. _Draco choked, breath stuck in his throat. He knew he was a dead man. Eventually one Death Eater or another would finally finish their quest to end Draco's life, and when that happened, Harry would go too. Merlin, but Draco wasn't sure he could live with that. He needed a loophole, a way out. He read through the passage again. One fragment kept catching his eye: _Once a bond was recognized and accepted. Once a bond was recognized and accepted. _What if he just didn't tell Harry? It was a pretty big secret to keep, but if Harry didn't know the terms than Harry couldn't accept it. If Harry didn't accept it, than maybe this affection wouldn't be fatal. Draco hoped so. He called out for the house elf. If appeared with a bow. "Here," Draco gave it the book, no idea if this was the same house-elf from earlier or a different once. They all looked the same. "Don't bother putting this back in my father's office. Just put it in the library."

"Yes Young Master."

Draco swallowed the rest of the whiskey in a single gulp and prepared to leave the Manor. He would have to hide this knowledge from Harry, deep deep down so that Harry didn't accidentally sense something amiss. Draco was slightly shaking as he left the manor. Without looking back he waved his wand and apparated back to his flat. The sleepless night and the spellweaving caught up with Draco as he appeared back home. It was around two in the afternoon. He had time to catch a little sleep before the party. He stretched on the couch and dozed.

_Draco was in a wood. Not the forest dream he shared with Harry, but a real wood. He and Harry walked arm in arm under the lamp lights. It was dark, but the path was well lit. He and Harry were talking about the future, a wonderful prospect that Draco enjoyed. He loved hearing Harry making plans for the future. It implied they would be together. There was nothing more that Draco wanted than to spend forever with Harry. They were talking about birthdays, specifically what they should do for Draco's twenty fifth. Harry seemed to think it was a significant year. Draco was willing to just go along with it, happy to be with Harry. Greece was thrown around as an idea. Rent an apartment on a secluded island, lounge around, make love, swim, make love again, enjoy the sun. Draco liked the way Harry was thinking. _

_The first blast of magic threw them apart, Draco spinning in the air until he hit the ground hard. Draco's vision was blurred, his ears were ringing. He spit out dirt and got to his knees. He couldn't see Harry anywhere. He shouted for him, looking around. Trees were exploding, Draco covered his eyes as bark and wood shrapnel shot out toward him. "Harry!" _

_Another flash of magic crashed over his head and Draco threw himself on the ground. "Harry!"_

"_Here." _

_Draco glanced around. He couldn't see his attacker and he couldn't see Harry. "Where!"_

"_Here." One hand reached up from the ground some twenty paces away. There was blood dripping from his arm and Harry's voice was weak._

"_Hang on." Draco grabbed his wand and fired blindly behind him as he ran toward Harry. He skidded to a stop, dropping down behind a large fell tree for cover. "Harry, where are you?"_

"_Over here." _

_Draco heard leaves from the downed tree rustle and he saw Harry's hand limply fall. "Harry?" Draco crawled toward him, looking down in disbelief. Harry was pinned down under the tree, a large branch directly over his legs. But that wasn't what worried Draco. What worried Draco was the gash across Harry's chest. It was deep. Dark blood was spreading through Harry's shirt, on the ground, and Harry was struggling to breathe. Blood was dripping out the corner of Harry's mouth and he was pale, all the color drained out of him. Draco hovered over him, leaning over his face. "No...Harry, no…" _

_Harry reached for him, hand slick in red blood. "Draco…" That beautiful green in his eyes was fading, he was leaving him._

"_Harry, please." He held Harry's hand, holding on, even as he felt Harry's fingers lose their grip. _

"_Draco…"_

_His heart tearing in two. He felt it rip as Harry's eyes lost their shine, staring up at him. Empty, glassy. Draco reached for Harry in that special place above his heart, lungs freezing when nothing was there, only an echo of Harry's last words: Draco..._

"Draco. Wake up. You're having a nightmare."

Draco woke, gasping for air, heart pounding in his chest. He couldn't catch his breath. He couldn't make sense of where he was. Was he standing? Sitting? Where was he?

"Christ, Draco, calm down. Breathe." Hands were on his face, warm hands, hands not covered in blood: Harry's hands. "Breathe. It was just a dream."

Breathe. He told his lungs to breathe.

"Breathe." Harry echoed again.

Draco's vision cleared. Harry was staring at him, eyes bright green, concerned and oh so alive. Draco was sitting on the couch, in the living room, and Harry was there. Already the dream was fading from Draco's mind. He struggled to keep the images. All he was left with was dread and fear and an aching loneliness. Not quite sobbing, but close, he dropped his head on Harry's shoulder. Arms wrapped around him instantly, rubbing his back, holding him.

"Why don't I call Ron and Hermione and tell them we have to cancel?"

Draco shook his head. "I'm alright. It was just a bad dream." Yet he still held Harry tightly. He tried to laugh but it came out tight and forced. "I can't even remember it now."

"It shook you." Harry pointed out.

"Yeah," Draco took another deep breath, finally able to release his hold on Harry. "That's what makes it a _bad _dream." He touched Harry's face, the worry was still there, etched in Harry's green eyes. "I want to go to the party. If we don't, everyone will assume it was my fault anyway."

"That's probably true, but I'm not in _love _with any of them, Draco. I need _you _to be ok."

"I am." He forced all the reassurance he could through their bond and saw Harry's expression waiver. "Let me get my shoes on."

Harry still looked doubtful. "If you're sure…" Draco nodded as he laced his shoes. Harry shrugged. "Alright. I'm going to change my shirt and we'll leave."

Draco watched him go and finished tying his shoes all the while trying to remember the dream. Draco was no stranger to bad dreams, but always it was memories of bad deeds he had done or helped to do. He had a feeling this dream was different. Harry came out wearing a dark red shirt. Draco had to shake off the ominous feelings that stirred within him. He was about to spend an evening with a bunch of...well, _Gryffindors._ He needed all his wits about him. What could possibly go wrong socializing with a group of people that hated your guts? Draco stood and mentally prepared himself for the evening, straightening his back, fixing his posture (he had a habit of slouching around Harry) and placing a strategically neutral expression on his face.

Harry sighed, coming to stand in front of him, running his fingers through Draco's hair. "You don't have to do that."

"Do what?"

"This. This defense."

Draco uncrossed the arms he hadn't realized were crossed. "Harry. I'm about to walk into the lion's den."

Harry didn't immediately argue. Instead, he pulled Draco down into a kiss. "Thank you, again. I know you don't have to do this."

"Please don't mention it," Draco touched Harry's face and smiled so Harry knew he was halfway kidding, "I might change my mind."

"Too late. You had your chance." Harry held his hand out and with only the barest hint of hesitation, Draco took it.

Outside Ron and Hermione's house one could hear the gathering. Many voices talking joyously at once, congregating, visiting. Lights were on inside and out giving the plain house an atmosphere of joviality that hardly matched Draco's disposition. Thankfully Draco was a rather good actor when called for. This was for Harry, and so for Harry Draco was prepared to be charming and good natured. As long as everyone was civil to him, he would be civil right back. Harry paused at the door, one hand on the knob silently asking if he was ready. Ready or not, he was there now. Draco nodded.

Harry entered the house and a chorus of welcomes greeted him. Draco could see him happily waving and kissing cheeks with someone. Draco was breathing fast, nervous. _This is for Harry, this is for Harry. _A mantra for courage. Draco came into the living room, closing the door behind him. All talking ceased and Draco found himself the center of attention. A group of people were arranged in a circle in the living room, some sitting, some standing. A few faces were familiar, but Draco tried not to stare. Seven pairs of eyes focused on him and for a moment Draco thought about turning around and just leaving. A warm hand, a touch that Draco would recognize anywhere, held his own and Harry came to stand next to Draco.

There was a look of defiance on Harry's face. Draco had seen it before when Harry was defending someone; he never thought to see it for his benefit. Harry kept Draco's hand in his, a motion not unnoticed by the crowd. "Hey guys, you remember Draco." The group made some vague welcoming noises. Harry pointed to the left. "That's Lavender," a girl with mousy blond hair waved, her eyes wide. "And Seamus and Dean." Draco had no idea which was which, but he nodded in their direction.

"'Allo." One said.

"Neville and Luna," Harry continued. They were sitting together on the smaller couch and both lifted their left hands in unison.

"Parvati...and Ginny."

Parvati tried to smile, Ginny rolled her eyes and walked away.

Hermione chose an amazing moment to make her entrance. She came from the kitchen balancing a tray full of drinks on her left hand. Draco immediately recognized the dress she wore. It was one of his designs, a floral dress of off white satin covered in chiffon with pink, red, and white flowers sewn throughout with green ivy on the border. It was made for someone like Hermione.

Hermione noticed them and she smiled brightly as she handed out drinks. "Harry! Draco! I'm glad you made it." Drink gone she tucked the tray by her side and made her way to Harry and Draco, kissing them both on the cheek.

Draco couldn't resist the dress. "Let me see," he asked as he made a spinning motion. Hermione obliged, the dress following her like it was made for her. "Beautiful."

"Thank you." She blushed. "I actually bought this, Draco. I promise. So, drinks?"

Harry had been watching the interact with a happy expression. "Sure. Have a red wine?"

Hermione looked a bit surprised. "Wine, Harry?"

He shrugged. "Draco's rubbing off on me."

Draco smiled. "Two reds then. Do you need help?"

"No," she said as she began to walk off. "Mingle. There's a bigger crowd in the back!"

Hermione's presence seemed to put everyone at ease. If the hostess was being pleasant to Draco, then that set the tone. The awkward reserve melted from the group as Hermione hurried away. Neville and Luna even moved over and gestured for Harry and Draco to join them. There wasn't quite enough space; Draco sat in the chair while Harry lounged on the armrest.

Time had been kind to Neville. Once he was a gangly kid with buck teeth and a large forehead. Draco was surprised to see a rather handsome man instead. Neville extended a hand and Draco shook it. "So, um...Draco, what have you been up to?"

"I design, produce, and sell clothes. Hermione is actually wearing something I made."

Luna sat forward so she could see around Neville.. She was tall, willowy; her blond hair well past her waist. "It's a lovely dress." Her voice was breathy.

"Thank you. What about you?"

And so Draco found himself conversing with a group of people he hadn't thought about in several years. They were _nice_. Pleasant even. Draco's friends at Hogwarts had never been nice. This was a new experience for him. He listened as Neville and Luna caught him up on their lives. Apparently they married. Draco congratulated them. At another time in his life he would have thought their paring odd, but there was a tan skinned gorgeous man semi-leaning against him and Draco realized he'd be a pot calling the kettle black. Luna worked as a Healer at St. Mungo's and Neville was now the Professor of Herbology at Hogwarts.

Draco was impressed, but he didn't really want to linger on the topic of Hogwarts. Everyone in the room knew what he had done and what he tried to do. Talking about Hogwarts felt taboo. Oddly, Luna must have felt the same way. She delicately changed the subject. St. Mungos had a research ward that Draco was unaware of. Luna spent her time investigating strange and unusual cases or illnesses that afflicted wizards and witches. In the strange way that topics flowed, Seamus (or Dean) chimed in about injuries sustained playing quidditch. Both were professionals who played on the same team, the Appleby Arrows.

Time passed pleasantly. George Weasley came in from outside smelling vaguely of a bonfire. He didn't seem surprised to see Draco and shook his hand while making small talk with Harry and Neville. Draco found he was enjoying himself. Conversation flowed around him; welcoming his voice when he shared, but not pressuring him to participate if chose to remain silent. He couldn't remember if he'd ever been to a house party that was so casual and pleasant. Harry thrived in this setting, Draco realized. Draco was much better at formal communication: cold, impersonal, polite. He struggled making personal connections with people he didn't know or didn't care to know. Harry was the opposite. He was so animated and happy. He seemed to remember little details of everyone's life, sitting on the armrest, talking, laughing, and frequently sneaking little touches on Draco's arm or shoulder. A wordless reminder that he was there. Like Draco could forget. Maybe that was one reason he didn't join in the fray as much: He loved watching Harry. That brought a smile to Draco's lips and he tried to catch the thread of conversation once again.

Some time later Harry leaned down to whisper in Draco's ear. "I'm going to make sure the food is ready. Will you be alright?"

Draco thought he would be fine and said so. Harry got up, excused himself and headed into the kitchen. Draco watched him go before returning his attention to the small group in the living room. Seamus (or Dean) came nearer to Draco and casually took Harry's spot, much to Draco's chagrin.

"So, how'd you and Harry meet up after all these years?" The Irish accent was very strong.

Draco fought the urge to cross his arms, though he did shift away slightly. "Which one are you? Seamus or Dean?"

"Seamus." He reached to shake Draco's hand. Seamus was short, stocky and entirely average looking to Draco. He shook hands briefly. "Well? You and Harry?"

"We ran into each at a coffee shop." Draco omitted that they ran into each other's fists a couple times. That was too much to share.

Seamus made a face. "Coffee? Awful stuff. Me? I prefer tea."

And somehow that was an open invitation to bore Draco with the various properties of tea. Which went well with what, which were best in the morning, which were best for noon, which were best in the evening. Draco was a pure-blooded, wealthy wizard. Did this man honestly think he didn't know about tea? Draco was determined to be nice though, so he swallowed his comments as he swallowed his wine.

Thankfully magicked trays full of food began floating into the living room. There was a large commotion from the kitchen as more people crowded inside the house. The noise became nearly intolerable until Ron (in a hideous yellow knitted sweater) began shouting. "Oi! You lot! Shut it! Hermione has something to say."

The crowd died down and Hermione stood next to Ron, beaming. She looked pretty, happy. "Thank you so much everyone for coming! This is such a happy day for me and Ron and we're glad you came to share it with us. There are various plates coming around, courtesy Harry's restaurant _Seven Thirty One_. Please eat and enjoy!" Everyone clapped and then kitchen, dining room and living room became a flurry of activity as people glanced around at a plate they wanted to eat.

Draco snatched a plate that looked predominantly vegetarian. A fork and knife magically appeared in his lap along with a napkin. He began quietly eating. For some reason Seamus was continuing his speech about tea.

Harry came back to the living room with a plate a while later. "Hey, Seamus, get off my seat!" There was an authoritative tone, Harry meant what he said, but there was a lightness to it as well.

Seamus got up grinning. "Just keeping it warm, Harry." He made his way back to a group of people near the front window.

Harry took his seat back, leaning into Draco's right arm for balance. "Did I miss anything?" He asked lightly.

"Only Seamus' undying love of tea."

"Oh damn. I should have warned you. He's a regular tea fanatic."

Draco laughed. "You don't say?" The talking died down as everyone ate. The food was good. Not quite as good as when Harry cooked at home for them, but then again, maybe he was just biased. Everyone seemed to be enjoying their meal. No one was paying attention to them so Draco gently touched Harry's neck. "You did good, Harry."

"Thanks." His gaze softened and he glanced around before mouthing _Love you._

Draco smiled brightly, deciding to leave his hand where it was. _Me too,_ he mouthed back.

As people began finishing and conversation increased, Harry slid off the armrest. "I'll be back in a bit; I'm going to start cleaning up."

"Do you need help?"

"Nah. Just relax for a bit. I'll be back quick."

Draco nodded and let Harry take his plate. Harry also grabbed most of the empty plates in the room. Conversation started again and this time Draco learned that Neville had been an Auror before becoming a professor. That was a bit fascinating. Neville, Harry and Ron had all gone through training together. Neville was regaling them with some tale or another when Draco started getting a weird feeling. At first it was so subtle that Draco paid it no attention. Soon he was shaking his right leg, anxiously. He was struggling to follow Neville's story. His skin felt like ants were crawling all over. The desire to run was overwhelming and Draco had no idea why. Neville wasn't talking about anything particularly distressing. Draco tried to shake it off, wondering what was wrong with him when belatedly he came to a realization: these weren't _his _emotions. They were Harry's. _Draco!_ His head snapped toward the kitchen. No one else moved, no one else heard the call. Harry needed him, needed help. Something was wrong. Draco stood and grabbed his wine glass. "Excuse me for a moment. I need another glass of wine." No one said anything as he left, just bobbed their heads as they continued visiting. Draco didn't notice Luna staring at his full glass of wine.

The closer Draco got to the kitchen the stronger he could feel the waves of anxiety emanate off Harry. Anxiety and hurt and anger, rolled into one emotional mess. Draco heard a woman's voice and saw a figure blocking the archway to the rest of the house. He came and stood behind her. Red hair...Ginny Weasley. Draco looked past her shoulder at Harry who was leaning against the counter with his head down, but eyes up. He hadn't noticed Draco yet, who listened to the tale end of their exchange.

Harry was pleading. "Please, Ginny. I'm trying to be nice, but you're making it difficult."

"_I'm _making it difficult? What in the world are you thinking, Harry? I...I always thought you'd come back around."

Draco felt a surge of jealousy. _Hell no. Harry was his. _Harry's head lifted up, almost like Draco had spoken out loud. A look of relief was on his face. Ginny slowly turned around, taking a step back when she realized Draco was so close. Draco was taller than her, much taller, and he towered over her. Purposely he barely glanced at her and instead met Harry's grateful eyes. "Alright, Harry?"

"Yeah, I was just coming to join you."

Ginny had no way to block Harry's path now. She stood to the side as Harry made the few steps to Draco. Draco placed a hand on Harry's back. There was no mistaking the possessive gesture. _Harry was his. _Draco tried to remain civil, regardless. "Ginny," he said with a tilt of his head. Then he began guiding Harry back to the main living room, back with his friends.

Ginny whispered a retort so soft, so quick that Draco almost missed it. Almost didn't hear her utter such cruel words: "Your mother would be so disappointed." Harry froze, a devastated expression on his face as he turned back toward her.

Draco couldn't believe she said, couldn't believe how heartless she was. Then Draco was furious, hands balling into fists. He was going to curse her. Draco pulled his wand out and began making up a fitting hex right then and there, but Harry stalled his hands, sensing what he was planning. Ginny's eyes widened and she fled through the backdoor, Draco's wand at her back.

"Draco, don't." Harry sounded deflated, sad. "It wouldn't help anything."

"Shit, Harry." Draco was angry at Harry now, seriously wanting to inflict pain on Ginny of the same magnitude she inflicted on Harry. It was short lived. One look at Harry's face and his anger melted away to concern. Draco could tell Harry wanted to leave. Draco sighed, taking Harry's hand. He led them briskly through the living room, no one paid them anything attention as Draco pulled Harry into Hermione's floral sitting room, flicking the light on as they came through the door.

Harry was staring at the floor a few feet away. "Draco, let's just go home."

"Harry, no. You've been looking forward to this. Don't let her ruin your night. Come here." Harry stepped closer, though he was still downcast. Draco wasn't sure how to console someone, let alone a lover, but for Harry's sake, he was willing to try. Tears were pooling under Harry's eyes, not falling, but glistening. It pulled on Draco's heart. He'd give anything to stop Harry from hurting. Softly, Draco placed his lips on Harry's left eye, kissing his closed eyelid, tasting the salt from the tears. With his left hand he brushed the tears from the other eyes, willing them gone. Harry reached for him, holding his shirt tightly between his hands. "Harry," Draco kissed his cheek, his temple, his hair, "You could never be a disappointment. Now me? I'm sure I disappoint my father every day, but you, you love, are above reproach."

Harry gave a soft smile, still tainted by sadness. He sniffed, "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Draco placed his right hand over Harry's heart. He thought of that forest, the peace they shared there, the calmness, the safeness; Draco knew he carried it with him, and he projected all the love he had through their bond. Harry gasped lightly and gazed at Draco. The green of his eyes were mixed with the green leaves of the forest and Draco knew the sky was reflected back from his eyes. "Remember, Harry: It's just you."

"It's just _you_." A true smile spread on his lips. The forest faded away until all that was left was Harry's brilliant green eyes. Draco could tell he was happier now, settled. Ginny's words forgotten.

"Ready to go back?" Draco asked and Harry nodded. Draco made to walk out of the room when Harry's arms wrapped around him from behind.

"You really are wonderful, you know that?"

"Of course I do."

Harry laughed, hands still on Draco as he spun around to face him. "Of course you do." Harry kissed Draco and Draco gladly accepted, no matter how brief the contact. That normal sparkle of life was back in Harry's eyes, his expression once again animated.

They made their way back to the living room, Harry first and Draco following. There were additions to the crowd now. Mister Weasley was busy talking with Dean and Seamus and Mrs. Weasley was leaning over the couch catching up with Neville sitting alone. It was slightly awkward seeing them, especially since he had been moments away from hexing their youngest daughter. Ginny must have kept silent, because Mrs. Weasley greated Harry warmly, hugging and kissing him, commenting that he looked thinner and why hadn't he visited. After a moment Harry and Draco moved into the living room proper next to Mr. Weasley.

Harry motioned to Draco, "You know Draco." For added impact Harry wrapped an arm around Draco's waist. Apparently Harry was done with being subtle for the night. The look on the older Weasley's face was almost comical. Shock, surprise, disbelief. Hermione must have said _something_ though, for he recovered quickly.

Mr. Weasley recovered himself quickly, extending a hand out to Draco. "Yes…" he said bemused. "It's been a long time, hasn't it Draco?"

"A very long time." Draco accepted the hand. He glanced at Mrs. Weasley behind the couch absently noting that Luna was once again sitting next to Neville. The living room crowd sensed the tension. The pleasant conversation paused. Draco didn't know if they were hoping for an argument or a row. Either way, he wasn't about to supply more drama. Instead, he shifted the topic to something all father's enjoyed talking about: their family. "You must be proud of Ron and George. Harry tells me their quidditch pitch will be ready soon."

Thankfully, that was all it took. The atmosphere lightened and Mr. Weasley happily launched into a discussion about the quidditch pitch, teams, matches, and expenses. Basically anything about quidditch. The rest of the evening passed without anymore hitches. Harry stayed near Draco while they socialized. They even ventured outside when Parvati made an off hand comment that Ginny had left for the night.

In the backyard was a large bonfire and twenty some more people (mostly redheads Draco noticed). The backyard seemed much bigger. Long logs lined a bonfire that provided light and heat, flames flickering, crackling, popping as they reached toward to sky. Draco glanced at the fire with unease. Ever since seeing the destructive power of fire Draco wasn't the biggest fan. It didn't quite border on pyrophobia, but the flames still made him uncomfortable.

Ron and Hermione were sitting on one of the logs close to the fire and they waved once as Harry and Draco joined the outdoor party. After the closeness and confinement of the house the open air felt good to Draco, even if he had goosebumps. He and Harry sat on one of the large logs, near the fire, but not too close. A few people Draco didn't know sat at the other end of the log, but for the most part he and Harry had some privacy from the rest of the party, blocked by the raging bonfire. Most people were standing around, moving to keep warm. Time passed, drinks were consumed, acquaintances were met. All in all it was a great evening. Draco realized it was getting late when Harry began drifting to sleep, his head resting on Draco's shoulder.

"Hey?" Draco whispered. "You ready to go?"

Harry opened his eyes, blinking sleepily. He kept his head on Draco's shoulder. "I suppose so." He yawned. "I'm falling asleep, aren't I?"

Draco lightly hugged Harry's side, nodding. "Not that I mind. It seems we're not a sideshow attraction anymore."

Harry hit his leg. "Be nice." To which Draco laughed low. "I guess we should say goodnight to Ron and Hermione."

Despite Harry's words, he made no attempt to move. Draco yawned himself and shivered, realizing he was slightly chilled. He snuck a hand under Harry's shirt for warmth.

"Draco! Your hand is freezing." Harry frowned at Draco, but still didn't move.

"I know. Come to think of it, so are my feet, my arms, and my legs. If we were home, _someone_ I know could warm me up."

"Alright, alright." Harry got up with a laugh. "Let's go." He offered a hand and pulled Draco up off the log. They made their way over to Ron and Hermione. Hermione had changed sometime in the night into warmer clothes, bundled up in pants and a thick jacket. Even still she was sitting on Ron's lap, his arms around her. They smiled as Harry and Draco approached. "Happy Anniversary," Harry said gladly.

"Thank you." They said in unison.

"We're taking off. It's starting to get cold." Draco was fine with letting Harry talk. He stood beside him, that one hand sneakily still in place.

Ron smiled. "I'm glad you made it. _Both _of you." That was directed at Draco, who, though slightly surprised, returned the smile. "Tomorrow we're having a grand opening at the pitch. You should come. It'll be an all day affair. Games, contests, and a friendly quidditch match between the Appleby Arrows and the Kenmare Kestrels." Ron looked proud. "Seamus and Dean pulled a few strings."

Harry glanced at Draco, a silent question. Draco shrugged. "Why not. It sounds like fun. Harry can enter a Seeker's game and win me a prize." They all laughed.

After clarifying a few details they all said goodnight. Harry and Ron made their way through the crowd, sometimes waving goodbye to groups of people, sometimes saying a few words. In the house the small group was sad to see them go, but wished them a goodnight as they left. Outside, the front of the house all was quiet. Several of the homes had their lights off and Draco wondered how late it really was. He was about to ask when Harry came to stand before him, both hands on Draco's face.

"You were amazing." He placed a soft kiss on Draco's lips. "It meant a lot to me." There was another kiss, this one longer, more passionate. The drowsiness from earlier had apparently passed.

Draco smirked, all kinds of fun thoughts coming to his head...and his head. "Well," he said leaning into Harry, "let's go home. You can show me how just how much you appreciate me."

There was no mistaking Draco's meaning. Harry touched Draco's arm, wand in hand for apparition. "It would be my pleasure." With a pop, they were gone.

Seamus, Dean, Parvati, Lavender, Neville and Luna waved one final goodbye as Harry and Draco left and then exploded into excited gossip.

Dean folded his legs underneath him, sitting on the floor. "What the hell is _that _all about? Harry and Malfoy? It's absolutely nutters!"

"And since when is Harry queer?" Lavender chimed in from a large chair in the corner. "How many years had he dated Ginny?"

The floodgates were open. The ex-Gryffindors picked apart Harry and Malfoy's supposed relationship. "What if they were just pulling a prank?" Parvati suggestion.

"Ron said they moved in together." Seamus shot back.

No one could imagine how Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy could possibly be in a loving relationship. Their minds kept racing back to the past when Harry and Malfoy were constantly at odds with each other, despite seeing them together for most of the night. They couldn't fathom how someone so seemingly as cold and calculated as Malfoy could possibly be good for their warm and kind friend Harry. Malfoy hardly touched Harry all night, or even looked at him. What kind of relationship could they even have? Malfoy wasn't exactly their idea of a nice, caring person. Trying to imagine him and the word _love _together mixed about as well as oil and water.

"I think you're all being very unkind," Luna said softly from the couch.

The talk stalled for a moment before Seamus glowered at Luna. "What do you know about it?"

"_I _think Draco is just private and doesn't easily show his emotions. Alone with Harry, that's a different story."

Neville gently touched Luna's knee. "When did you see them alone?"

Luna blushed. While everyone was busy talking earlier she spotted Draco leading Harry down the hall. Curious, she followed, making an excuse to use the restroom. The door to a heavily floral themed room was slightly ajar. Luna heard Draco and Harry's voices talking quietly. She knew she shouldn't have looked, but regardless she peered through the crack. Draco was holding Harry, a hand on his heart. Luna had the feeling that Harry and Draco were in their own world, their own place. She imagined seeing them in a lush forest, the sky filled with clouds, but not storming. There was peace there, happiness. And she heard Draco speak. "_Remember, Harry: It's just you." _And Harry replying "_It's just you."_ The love that passed between them was palpable and Luna moved away, realizing she saw something extremely private.

She wasn't going to share _all _she saw, not with the whole group. Maybe later, when it was just she and Neville. But she did share a random thought she had had while watching Harry and Draco's exchange. "I think they're soul bonded."

The group was divided between shocked and humorous reactions. Luna was accustomed to being laughed at. She sat there, hands folded in her lap and refused to take back her words.

"Come off it, Luna." Dean said with a roll of the eye. "That bonding crap is total bollocks."

"Well, I suppose it would make as much sense as anything else." Parvati added. "I mean, how else could those two end up together?" She made a face and then shook the thought away. "It's just a myth anyway."

"What's a myth?" Hermione and Ron came in from outside. Hermione had asked the question, leaning against the sofa.

"Loony Luna here thinks Harry and Malfoy bonded." Seamus glared at Luna.

No one but Luna paid attention when Neville growled. "Don't call her that."

Hermione frowned. "Bonded? What's that?"

Ron sighed. "It's a theory. When a witch and a wizard have an unusually strong love their souls, their life forces, are joined together." He turned his attention to the group. "What makes you think Harry and Draco bonded?"

Dean pointed to Luna. "She's the one making accusations." Luna stared silently at Dean until he looked away. With a huff he crossed his arms. "Besides it being _ridiculous_, there hasn't been a soul bonding for centuries. I remember Professor Binns mentioning it once during Valentine's Day."

Hermione bit her lip. "If Binns mentioned it, maybe it's not a myth. He hated talking about myths."

Lavender frowned. "A few of us in school liked to imagine what a soul bond would be like. But Harry and Malfoy? Come on. They would have needed someone to perform the spell, someone close to them." She pointedly looked at Ron and Hermione. By their alarmed expressions she figured neither had participated in a bonding. "So, there. Even if bonding _was _real, obviously the spell hasn't been cast."

"Pure bloods don't need a spell." Luna whispered.

"Well, there you have it." Seamus said smugly. "Harry isn't a pure blood."

There was a pregnant pause. A realization was spreading through the group. You could see it on their faces one at a time as a truth bounced silently from one person to the next. Memories surfaced of a pale, blond haired youth spouting his bloodline whenever he had the chance to brag. Eventually it was Neville who spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. "But Draco is."

Much later, after everyone was gone, Hermione lay awake in bed staring at the ceiling in the dark. She knew Ron was still awake too, though he was turned away from her on his side. His breathing hadn't evened out yet. The talk of soul bonding was still bothering Hermione. "Ron?"

"Yeah?" He said turning toward her.

"Do you think what they said earlier could be true? About Harry and Draco?"

"I don't know. There's like a one to billion chance of a soul bond happening...but, maybe it wouldn't surprise me."

"Why not?"

Ron made a face. "Well, it's _Harry. _If anyone was to beat those odds, it would be him." He paused, "It would make sense, I guess. Harry is totally devoted to Draco."

"I don't think that's one sided." Hermione added, defending Draco.

"No. I don't think so either."

They lapsed into silence, each with their own thoughts. "Should...should we mention it to Harry?" Hermione finally asked.

Ron exhaled noisily. "No. _If _they're soul bonded, it's nobody's business but their own. It's private, 'Mione. And if they're not, we'd all feel foolish."

"Maybe we're just all trying to find an explanation for them being together."

Ron couldn't believe he was about say this, but he'd seen some of Harry and Draco together through the night. He'd been watching as Harry fell asleep on Draco and how Draco held him to keep him from falling. He saw how Draco watched Harry, like Harry was the only person in the world who mattered to him. Ron was starting to think that was true for Draco and that it wasn't just Ron's imagination. Showing up to their party had said more about Draco's feelings for Harry than any words could have described. Had the tables been turned Ron would _never _have gone to a gathering of Slytherins. And yet, not only had Draco showed up, but he had been pleasant. Ron knew it wasn't for he or Hermione's sake; it was all for Harry. Hermione was right: Draco _was _devoted to Harry. Suddenly the idea of having to socialize with Draco more in the future didn't seem so bad. Ron realized Draco was willing to run the gauntlet for Harry. "Maybe," he finally responded to Hermione's thought. "Maybe they just love each other. Isn't that the only reason they need?"

"Ron…" Even in the dark Ron could sense Hermione's smile. She kissed him and then all thoughts of Harry and Draco were forgotten.


	19. Chapter 19: Quidditch Prizes

**Quidditch Prizes**

The weather was typical for February, cold, windy and rainy. Draco was finishing getting dressed as Harry spoke on the mobile with Ron from the living room. From what Draco could gleam, apparently only the muggles were going to suffer Mother Nature's wrath. A couple of the Weasleys had conjured a weather dome over the new quidditch pitch. The weather would be sunny, breezy and temperate. A special weather provision for a special opening. Quidditch games played on sun,rain, snow, fog, hail, but to make the day more appealing Ron had asked and received an emergency permission to erect such a barrier. That meant Spring clothes. Draco put back his thick sweater and instead browsed his closet, pulling out dark blue slacks, a light emerald blazer, and...for shock's sake a black buttoned shirt with layers of pink feathers on it. He was happy. Why shouldn't his wardrobe reflect that? He was slipping on navy loafers when Harry came back into the bedroom, slowing down as he eyed Draco from head to toe.

"This is a nice look."

"Thank you. You don't look too bad yourself."

Harry was wearing an outfit Draco hadn't seen before, so he assumed it was for cooler weather as well. The pants were a rusty brown jean, his shirt horizontal stripes of alternating orange and white. It was surprisingly trendy for Harry. Harry grinned, standing in front of Draco as he rearranged a few unruly blond strands. "You ready?"

"I am."

They decided beforehand they'd walk to Draco's warehouse and apparate from there. Muggles liked to see people actually come to and fro, so Draco habitually made an appearance even when he didn't need to. Besides, he didn't want management making a "health" call and wondering how the entire kitchen got remodeled without any workers in the building. They got a few weird looks, Draco assumed it was their clothes, and then they were rushing through the pavements, trying to stay under easements until they reached the warehouse and they could safely apparate to the quidditch pitch.

There was a decent crowd waiting to get into the new quidditch pitch, standing in four queues streaming past turnstiles. The noise was just below a dull roar. People laughing and talking, shouting to friends and family. Bright flags flew around the spectator seating. Inside an aerial broom show was taking place to enthusiastic applause. Draco was very impressed. He and Harry made their way through the crowd. Near the ticket booth he heard a feminine voice yelling his name.

"Draco! Draco! Over here."

He was taller than most around him, glancing around until he saw Hermione jumping up and down trying to get his attention. He steered Harry toward her, weaving in and around people.

Hermione kissed them both on the cheek, brown eyes lit up excitedly. Her curly hair was having a hard time staying flat, maybe influenced by its owner. She was holding their hands lightly bouncing on her toes. "I'm so glad you made it. Look at this! Isn't it amazing?"

"It really is 'Mione." Harry said gladly.

"Yes, congratulations." Draco chimed in.

"Thank you. Now here," she released their hands and dug into her pockets, handing them two wristbands. "These will get you in, get you food, get you _anything _basically. They're owner specials."

Harry was setting the wristband on Draco's held out hand. "This is great Hermione." Draco returned the favor, squeezing Harry's hand in the process.

"All right." Hermione's eyes were already searching the crowd again. "Well, off you go. I'm keeping watch for a few more people."

"See you later, Hermione." Harry and Draco waved as they moved passed the ticket queues and straight into the pitch.

The place had a carnival feel to it. Vendors were shouting out their wares, a few kiddy rides entertained the younger crowd, everywhere people, everywhere shouting, and for a moment Draco became anxious. He wasn't used to being surrounded by so many people. But all he had to do was look down at Harry's smiling face and he felt his anxiety melt away. Harry had that wide eyed look he got sometimes; a look of wonderment and awe. It always made Draco smile.

Harry shouted above the din. "Well, what shall we do first?"

As luck would have it, an announcer called loudly above their heads: "The first Seeker's Game will be held in ten minutes!"

Draco gave Harry an excited and expecting grin.

"No, Draco. You've got to be joking."

"Come on, Harry. You can win me a prize."

He crossed his arms, rolling his eyes. "Why don't _you _enter?"

Draco got semi serious, looking wounded. "Ok, you listen to me Harry, because I'm only going to say this once: You _know _you're the better Seeker. And I want a prize."

Harry laughed. "Alright, but _only _because you admitted that." Draco made a sassy face. "Hey! Do you want your 'prize' or not?"

Laughing they followed the throng of people toward the pitch. Despite the noise and the crowd, Draco was walking arm in arm with Harry. There was a sense of anonymity in such a place, and it made Harry happy, beaming a bright smile up at him as they neared the sign in booth. A few stragglers were still entering and Harry joined the line. Already twenty or so people were on the pitch holding brooms. Harry signed in, the official woman's eyes widened as she pointed the way.

Draco touched Harry's elbow. "Have fun, Harry. I'm going up for a better view." Harry smiled and turned to join the other Seekers while Draco scouted around for a better vantage spot. Several rows up in the spectator seating he saw a bright blue box with "Owner's Box" written on it in large white letter. Glancing down at his wristband he thought he'd give a shot. All he had to do was flash his wrist and he was allowed in the open air box. It was slightly higher than the other seats (a fact that Draco's calves were protesting), perfect for watching the game. There were a few other people in the box that Draco didn't know. They weren't watching the Seeker game, so Draco made his way to the front and leaned down see. The announcer was reading off the names of the Seekers as one by one they mounted their brooms and took to the air, each to a smattering of applause. Draco was grinning as the announcer paused before reading Harry's name, glancing at him before looking at the paper as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

"Next, we have...Harry Potter!"

There was a collective gasp from the crowd as Harry stepped forward and then a roar of shouts and applause as Harry gave a small wave before mounting his broom. He looked so adorable and uncomfortable that Draco laughed out loud.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, what a surprise to see you."

Draco knew that voice and he tensed up. Reluctantly he looked to his right. Auror Cooke, still wearing that ridiculously ugly brown coat, was standing near him with his arms crossed. The hair on Draco's neck stood on end; he'd never forgive the Auror for what he did and he found it in the worst possible taste to have to speak to him. He moved to the left a step, aggrieved when the Auror moved as well.

"You must be trying hard to stay under the radar, as the Muggles would say. Haven't heard your name lately."

"Something like that." Draco said shortly. Maybe if he engaged briskly the Auror would get the hint...though, by the look in his eyes he knew perfectly well Draco didn't want to visit.

They both watched as the game began. The referee was calling out the rules. Draco scanned until he spotted Harry again, hovering toward the end of the pack.

"So," the Auror continued, "You and Potter, huh? That's an odd pairing."

Draco tried to remain calm even though alarm bells were ringing in his head. "We're just friends," he lied. His instincts told him not to trust Auror Cooke. The man had never done _anything _to make Draco like him, let alone trust him, and this line of questioning set Draco on edge. Even from this distance Draco saw Harry searching for him in the crowd, a worried frown on his brow when he spotted him. Draco gave a slight shake of the head and tried to send reassurance through their bond. Harry nodded once and turned his attention back to the referee.

"Friends, huh?" Auror Cooke continued. "_My _friends never look at me that way."

"You have friends?" Draco quipped back without looking. The golden snitch was released and twenty some odd people took to their air searching for the elusive little ball.

The auror chuckled as he moved closer, nearly touching Draco's shoulder with his own. "You should watch him."

Draco slowly turned toward the auror, doing his best to hide his distress. That sounded like a threat, or a warning, or _something_, and it sent chills down his spine.

Auror Cooke pointed to the game. "There, see? He's spotted the snitch." With a tilt of his head, the Auror turned away and left the box.

Taking a few deep breaths, Draco waited until he could no longer see Auror Cooke. "Fucking _bastard_," he muttered. And then Harry was diving at a near ninety degree angle and Draco leaned forward to watch the game, his focus only on Harry and the auror forgotten.

He never actually _watched _Harry fly before. Draco was proud of his flying skills and in the past had been jealous of all the accolades Harry got because of his flying, but as Draco watched the way he weaved around his competitors Draco could finally admire how amazing Harry really was on a broom. He made hairpin turns, he flew upside down, he spiraled around. Half the time Draco had the feeling he was just throwing the other competitors off. Harry made a certain face when he was after the snitch, and right now it was missing from his expression. Draco smiled. Harry was just messing with them, or giving the audience a show.

Two flyers collided mid air, tumbling some twenty feet to hit the ground with two quick thuds. Medical rushed to the fallen as the crowd oohed and ahhed. Half the remaining flyers paused to check on their well being. Not Harry. He took that opportunity to scan for the golden snitch, sneakily putting distance between he and the other flyers. Draco had to admire his focus. And then, zoom! He was gone, a blur of orange. Draco hadn't seen the snitch, but there was no doubt now: Harry was on the hunt.

Down to the other side of the pitch he went, barely inches off the grass. This snitch was a tricky one, waiting until it nearly collided with the wooden fence before shooting up. Harry didn't even slow down and Draco found he was holding his breath as Harry yanked the broom up, kicked off the grass, and shot straight up without losing any of his momentum. The snitch turned to the left, and Harry followed. The other flyers were paying attention now, but were too far or too slow to do much other than watch as Harry stretched out, leaning forward and snatch! A horn sounded and the crowd went crazy as Harry held up the snitch. Its golden wings were still slightly beating as Harry turned toward the blue box, a triumphant expression on his face. Draco clapped along with the crowd and started back down the stairs. The announcer was gleefully pronouncing Harry Potter the winner of the first Seeker game of the day. Draco wasn't able to hear or see what the prizes were. The crowd was too loud and he'd lost his vantage point.

By the time he reached the bottom of the steps Harry was there with a very smug look on his face and a large stuffed hippogriff under his arm. With a flourish, he handed the toy over to Draco. "There you go. You have a prize."

Draco was laughing. "Thank you." He held it to inspect the detail, which was actually quite remarkable. "You know, this might be my very first stuffed toy."

"And that might be the saddest thing I've heard all day." Harry had a soft smile on his lips, teasing.

There was too many people around to kiss him, so Draco settled for a hug. "You were amazing!"

"Thank you. Now what?"

Draco shrugged, keeping one arm around Harry and tucking the toy under the other. "Are you hungry?"

"Yeah, that's not a bad idea." They started walking toward the various food stands. Harry gave him a sideways look with a bit of a grin. "Are you honestly keeping that hippogriff?"

"Of course I am!"

"What in the world are you going to do with it?"

"That's not the point," Draco sniffed. To which Harry just laughed.

The rest of the day passed by enjoyably for Draco. He and Harry ate, watched a few games and went back to the Blue Box for the finale: The Quidditch match between the Appleby Arrows and the Kenmare Kestrels. For the big show Ron himself was calling the plays. It was a good match, playing well into the late afternoon before the Seeker on the Arrows finally caught the Snitch securing the victory. Somehow or another Harry and Draco got roped into joining Hermione and Ron to a victory dinner. Draco couldn't think of a polite excuse quick enough, so they ended up going. By the time he and Harry reached the hotel they were both tired and slightly damp. It had started to pour on the short walk from the warehouse.

They didn't talk much as they readied for bed, both yawning and tired. Draco was out of the bathroom first and in comfortable pajama pants for the night. He was amusing himself by trying to get the hippogriff to stand by itself. Every time he thought he had it balanced, it toppled over. He picked it up to retry.

Harry came out of the bathroom, tilting his head curiously. "What are you doing?" Harry tried to hide the humor in his voice and failed miserably.

Draco spared him a quick look. "Trying to get this damned thing to stand."

"Why?"

Draco sighed as if it pained him to explain such an obvious explanation. "Why? It has four legs! It should stand!"

Harry chuckled as he stood beside him. "Here, let me see." Draco relinquished his grasp and watched as Harry carefully maneuvered the legs, making minute adjustments and then slowly taking his hands away. The hippogriff remained standing and Harry winked. "Better now?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"Can we go to bed now?" Harry made his way to his bed, rolling his right shoulder and rubbing it with his left hand.

"What's wrong with your shoulder?" Draco asked concerned as Harry climbed into bed. He was shirtless, like Draco; only wearing his boxers.

"I don't know. Pulled it, I guess." He flopped on the bed, laying on his stomach. "It's been a long time since I've played Quidditch, you know."

Draco came around the right side of the bed and clicked Harry's lamp off. Only his lamp remained adding a warm glow to the room. A thought was occurring to Draco, a wonderful thought. He climbed into bed, but instead of laying down straddled Harry and started kneading the muscles around his right shoulder. Harry gave a short exhalation. Draco used his fingers and continued his massaging, changing pressure and locations based on Harry's reaction. It started innocently enough. Draco was trying to relieve Harry's pain. Draco wasn't even sure when the mood shifted. One moment he was finding sore spots on Harry's shoulder and the next his hands were continuing the massage, but with a different intention. Oddly enough this put Draco in a mischievous and playful mood.

"I saw a rather impressive flyer today."

"Did you?" Harry sounded half asleep.

"Yes. He was quite handsome."

"What?" That got Harry's attention and Draco grinned as he felt Harry's back muscles tense up slightly.

"Bright green eyes, dark hair. Very striking."

Harry relaxed, realizing Draco was teasing him. "He does sound handsome. Is he nice, do you think?"

"He seems to have a certain charm."

There was a little chuckle from Harry and then a wince as Draco hit a particularly sore spot on shoulder. "What's this, ouch, no, go back to the left, what's this chap's name?"

"I've heard him called Harry."

"Harry? That's such a ordinary name!" He sounded like he was really complaining, which amused Draco. Try being named after a Dragon constellation.

Instead, he kept playing along. "It is a rather ordinary name, isn't it?" His reply was a smack on the leg. Draco moved his hands slowly down from Harry's shoulder, using his palms as he worked. "He has some good qualities, regardless of his name."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Like, forgiveness." The atmosphere changed dramatically with those two words. Draco's hands were more sensual, trailing down Harry's ribs, following the slight curve of his waist. "You're easily the best part of my life, Harry."

Harry moved to his back; Draco used his knees to brace himself until Harry had turned around and then he sat back on Harry's lap pleased to feel his arousal through his pants. Harry was maintaining eye contact, green eyes very dark. "Do you mean that?"

Draco scooted down and kissed Harry's hip, holding him on both sides. "Yes, of course I do." He continued placing kisses on Harry's bare stomach, bare chest, hands caressing warm skin. One hand reached up and stroked Harry's neck; he tilted back, lips apart, chest starting to rise and fall in quicker succession. The moment was intense. Draco's own desire was growing and so was Harry's, an equal and echoing thrum that Draco could feel just above his heart. Draco stretched out along Harry length, one hand staying low, reaching under an elastic band, each finger slowly and deliberately wrapping around Harry's hardness. Harry had his hands on Draco's shoulders. He took a quick intake of breath, eyes closing. When he opened them again they were dark and dilated. Draco loved seeing this side of Harry. He worked on Harry with his hands, moving smoothly, changing pressure, changing strokes, the whole time leaning over Harry, watching his reactions.

Harry's breathing and heartbeat were rapid now; his fingers were squeezing Draco's biceps and he threw his head to the side. "_Draco_." He whispered.

Draco loved hearing Harry say his name like that. If possible it made him want Harry even more. Harry was so hot now and hard; Draco could feel every pulse and beat of his wildly beating heart with his fingers and he was struggling to stay still, breathing coming out in short, sweet gasps. Right when Draco thought Harry couldn't take anymore he let go and moved off Harry's body. Harry was watching him, confusion and curiosity all over his face mixed with a desperate arousal. He started to ask a question, but Draco put a single finger to his own lips. _Shhh. _Draco slipped out of his clothes, his own erection firm. A moan escaped Harry as he momentarily dropped his head. It took some maneuvering to get Harry's boxers off around his erection, but Draco managed.

Draco enjoyed sex, always had. Had enjoyed it more when he realized what it was like to sleep with men, whether he did the loving or was the one being loved. All of his experiences, all his ex-lovers, paled in comparison with Harry. Moving in him, feeling him, _Merlin, _sometimes Draco was afraid he'd finish before he started. And dammit, Harry's face didn't help, bright and open and so full of enjoyment and passion. Draco was overwhelmed by Harry, consumed by him, drowning in him, and he never wanted to stop. Each time he moved, Harry responded with a moan of pleasure that drove him on. Harry's arms were above his head, holding on to their pillows, body moving as Draco moved. Draco slightly changed his position and Harry cried out, lost in the moment. Harry's emotions were washing over him, several different feelings layered all at once: desire, trust, love, passion, lust, love, longing. Draco thought his feelings were slightly more direct. He loved Harry and just wanted to love him. Harry gasped.

That lovely sound nearly made Draco come undone. He rearranged himself once more and pulled Harry into a sitting position, his erection still hard between them. "Together, Harry. I want to feel you." Harry nodded and wrapped his arms around Draco's neck and then there was no more reserve. Draco thrust hard into Harry. By the fourth time they both cried out, simultaneously coming as their bodies shook. That door to their bond burst open and Draco captured Harry's mouth as wave after wave of intense pleasure and emotion flowed into Draco from Harry. Draco held Harry like that, holding him, kissing him until some of the intensity died down back to their normal levels. Harry was placing soft kisses on Draco's lips, his jaw, his neck, still holding him tightly, still merged with him, though Draco was spent.

"Draco?" Harry rest his head against Draco's sternum.

"Hmm?" Draco changed his position so that his legs were outstretched in front of him and he was leaning back on one arm, the other was resting on Harry's hip.

"I want to stay like this with you, forever."

"Good."

"Yeah?" Harry glanced up.

"Yes." Draco kissed the tip of Harry's nose. "I'll follow you anywhere, Harry, even to hell and back, if that's what you want." Draco hadn't realized how truly deep his devotion was until he realized he meant those words. Wherever Harry went, he'd go; he had to. His entire being was tied to Harry and for a split second he almost told Harry what their bond meant, but he hesitated. If Harry knew...

Harry's brow furrowed and he caressed Draco's cheek. "If I knew what?"

Damn bond. Thankfully Draco was quick on his mental feet. "If you only knew how _much _I love you." It wasn't even a lie. "Now come on. I'm going to lather you in soap and then crawl into bed and go to sleep with you in my arms."

Harry flashed him a full, bright smile. "That sounds like a wonderful idea."


	20. Chapter 20: In the Eye

**In the Eye**

Several days passed in uneventful bliss. Harry worked at _Seven Thirty One_ training a new chef to replace another sous chef that got promoted. He had been offered head chef at a restaurant in Highgate. Harry had wished him well. Secretly Harry had written the owner a stellar review of the sous chef's abilities and was genuinely happy he got the job. The new chef would be fine once trained, but it took time.

Draco was also busy finishing the last few garments to ship out to the DBD Stores, often working late with a near obsessed focus to finish. The sooner these clothes were done the sooner Draco could start designing new clothes. By the end of the week all the lines from Fashion Week would be ready for sale. Currently the finished product sat in large plastic bins waiting to be shipped. It was an ugly eye sore in the warehouse and everyone knew not to mention them to Draco.

At night Harry and Draco ate together, visited and partook in different activities. They were up to Chapter 10 in the Da Vinci Code. Harry learned much to his chagrin that Draco was a better chess player. However, Harry was proving to be better at faro and whist, especially if the bets were of an erotic nature. One night Brian joined them for an easy dinner of baked haddock and steamed vegetables. Harry even managed to get Draco interested in a few programs on the telly...as long as Draco was allowed to lay on Harry's lap and as long as Harry continued to run his fingers through Draco's hair. Harry figured Draco was less interested in the programs as he was in being spoiled. Harry didn't mind. He came out the winner either way.

On Saturday both had agreed to sleep in. Draco even ordered their breakfast through room service to be ready around ten. Both men were equally exhausted. The Friday night crowd at _Seven Thirty One _had exceeded expectations. At first the night had been very slow. When one waitress suggested she go home early Harry agreed. It made business sense. An hour later the restaurant didn't have an empty table and there was a wait list. The new chef struggled to keep up with demand and Harry found himself working both as a chef and a waiter. Needless to say, he was exhausted when he got home around two in the morning. Draco had only been home long enough to heat up some soup. Harry could see the fatigue in his eyes, grey dull and flat. He did brighten a bit when he saw Harry. Together they ate a bite and made the pact to sleep in before both falling fast asleep, Harry safely held by Draco.

_Tap tap tap...tap tap tap...tap! Tap! _

Harry blinked several times, frowning. Something woke him up. Some sound. _Tap! _It was coming from the living room. Harry eased into a sitting position, glancing at Draco. He was fast asleep still, head turned away, hair fanned out on the pillow. One arm was over his head, the other holding Harry. _Tap tap tap tap tap tap!_

Gently Harry got out of bed, wrapping his robe around his body. By the light coming in from the window it was around eight or so in the morning. He light footed into the main living space. Nothing looked out of place, nothing was moved. And it was quiet. He frowned, perturbed. Yawning, he decided to make coffee while he was up. The machine began percolating and as he grabbed two mugs he heard it again: _tap tap tap TAP!_

Harry glanced at nearby window panel and fumbled the mugs. Only years of quick reflexes kept them from shattering on the tile. Harry put the mugs down and pulled the vertical blinds to the side. Flapping tirelessly about mid length up the window was a tawny owl. It had beautiful brown feathers with a dappling of white spots and bright yellow eyes. A letter was tied obviously to its leg and it was hitting the window pane with its beak: _tap tap tap._ The windows weren't made to open. Harry rushed to his coat hanging by the door and grabbed his wand, improvising a quick spell to vanish the glass. The owl flapped into the flat and lighted on the table, narrowing its eyes in silent reproach.

"Sorry. We don't get many owls lately. Here, let me see." Harry reached out to take the letter and the owl clacked its beak, backing away a hop. "Hey, don't be like that." Talking to an owl brought back nostalgic feelings for Harry. Hedwig, his beautiful white owl, had often been his only friend and companion in the summer. She, however, knew how to deliver a letter. This tawny was stubborn, staying just out of Harry's reach. "Can I at least see who it's to? What if you have the wrong address?" The owl's neck feathers stood on end, clearly insulted. After staring Harry up and down it held out its leg. Harry had just enough time to make out an elaborate _D. Malfoy _before the owl took its leg back. Harry stood with his hands on his hips. "Look, Draco is still asleep. I promise I'll give it to him." The owl shook his head and began flapping his wings noisily while making loud barking sounds. "Stop! Come on! It's his first day off in a while. Let him sleep." The owl turned its head around in that spooky way they do, staring down the hall. Harry imagined what it was going to do had only a split second to act, grabbing the owl by the legs. It turned on Harry, biting his thumb and drawing blood. "Damn!" Harry had held him just a second, just a second long enough to run into the bedroom ahead of the owl and close the door behind him. The owl shrieked in anger, pounding the door. Harry's thumb had a gash on it and he put it in his mouth. "Damn. That hurt." Draco was still asleep, and Harry reluctantly sat near him, shaking him lightly. "Draco. Draco, I'm sorry, but can you wake up?"

He took a deep breath and covered his eyes with his arm. "What is it? Dammit. I thought we agreed to sleep in, Harry." His voice was gravelly from sleep and very irritated.

"I'm sorry, but…" Harry's explanation was interrupted by a loud bang. Something hit the door.

Draco moved his arm and opened his eyes, sitting up with a deep scowl. "What is that? What the hell is going on?"

Harry sighed. "There's an owl here for you; a tawny that refuses to give me the letter. It's a damn pain in the ass." The owl shrieked in defiance as it heard the insult.

Draco reached for Harry's cut thumb. "This from him?" Harry nodded. "Then that's Mordre. Damn bird. It's one of my father's." The owl must have heard Draco's voice, it changed its call to a nicer sounding "kiw kew". Draco glared at it through the door. "Mordre! If you don't shut up I'll turn your tail feathers into stone again!" There was a definite frightened "eep" out of the owl. Draco waited a few moments and when no more banging happened nodded. "Well, hell. There goes sleeping in. Come here for a minute." Draco leaned against the headboard and opened his arms.

Harry obliged, resting his back against Draco's chest. "I'm sorry I woke you up. I made coffee," he said as a peace offering.

"I'm not mad at you. Just grumpy." Draco placed a kiss on Harry's head and wrapped his arms around him. Harry smiled to himself. They stayed that way for awhile until Draco heaved a huge sigh. "Alright. Let's get some coffee and see what Mordre has brought me." Harry got up and handed Draco his robe as he got out of bed. "Thank you." Draco went and opened the door. Mordre was sitting on its feet, tilting its head up at Draco and chirping happily. Draco ignored it completely, stepping over the owl as he went to the kitchen, Harry a few feet behind him (though Harry edged his way around the owl, wary of the sharp beak). Harry poured and prepared their coffee, handing it to Draco as he sat at the tall table. The owl followed them, chirping on the table as it held out the letter. With a sigh Draco took it. "There. Go home now." The owl gave it a sideways glance, like he knew he was waiting for a response. "Fine." Draco broke a wax seal and unrolled the parchment.

Harry watched Draco's face as he read it. He was obviously piqued by the letter. "What does it say?" Harry asked as he sipped his coffee and took a seat next to Draco.

"It's my father." Draco handed the parchment over and Harry silently read it.

_Draco, My Son and Heir,_

_I have been away from London for some time. This being said, I still receive the news. Imagine my shock and horror when I saw a picture of my son, my __**only **__son, socializing with a person of a less desirable association. You will explain yourself._

_L Malfoy_

Draco had gone to a cabinet to retrieve a length of parchment and quill as Harry finished the letter. His face had an odd look to it; a mixture of anger and amusement. Harry leaned over the table as Draco penned a reply.

_Dear Father,_

_This is none of your concern. Fuck off._

_Respectfully,_

_Draco_

"You can't write that!" Harry tore the writing off the parchment in a practiced straight line.

"Why not? It _isn't_ any of his business."

Harry took a deep breath as he balled the parchment in his hands. "No, it isn't, but your father already hates me, Draco. Murderously." Draco scoffed and Harry reached out to him, placing a hand over his. "No, I'm serious. One time he tried to kill me for freeing a house elf! Please don't give him a reason to try again."

Draco was silent, frowning, thinking. "He really is a bastard."

"Yes," Harry agreed, "with a very long reach."

He tapped the feather quill against his chin several times before writing again:

_Dear Father,_

_Any animosity between myself and the person you are alluding to has been replaced by a true friendship. There is no reason to be upset by this turn of events. _

_Respectfully,_

_Draco_

Harry read from over Draco's shoulder, kissing his cheek as the ink dried. "Thank you," he said relieved.

"You're welcome." Draco rolled the parchment up and motioned for the owl. Mordre hopped over, chirping and clicking in delight as Draco tied the letter to its leg. "Feel free to get lost, Mordre." The owl shrieked indignantly as it launched itself in the air and through the window. Harry shook his head as he magicked the window pane back into place.

When Harry turned back, Draco was rubbing his temple. Harry came around and massaged his neck. "What's wrong? Worried what your parents will say?"

There was a deep sigh. "In the long run? No. I couldn't care less."

"What then?"

"I've tried to explain to them several times that I'm _not _interested in marrying a witch. Hell, one time I told my mother flat out that I dated men." He turned to see Harry from the side. "Do you know what she told me?" Harry shook his head. "'That's nice, dear, we all need friends.' And then she was trying to set me up with some daughter of a friend."

Harry knew this wasn't about him, knew that Draco was venting, and yet that didn't stop the jealousy from rising from the pit of his stomach. He knew it was wrong, knew it was stupid, but the idea of Draco with someone else, especially a woman, made his blood boil. There was no way Harry would let that happen without a fight. Still, he tried to keep those thoughts private as he continued to knead the knots out of Draco's neck. Harry thought back to Draco's previous words. If in the long run he wasn't worried, then what _was _he worried about? Just the ugliness of the situation? Harry knew the Malfoy's were proud. Surely Harry couldn't be the worst possible match! "You could always remind them it could be worse. I could be a muggle."

Draco gave a surprised laugh, but it was short and tinged with a darker emotion. Sadness maybe. It was hard to tell with Draco sometimes, even with their strange connection. Draco reached behind him and pulled Harry around, turning sideways on the chair at the same time. Draco let his head rest against Harry's stomach, lightly holding him on the sides. Harry stroked his hair, his neck, his back. Draco _was_ worried, despite his words. Harry wondered what that would be like, to have tell your parents about the most intimate part of your life knowing they would disapprove, knowing they would be disappointed. Especially such an old family, like the Malfoy's. The bloodline would die with Draco if he didn't have children. And Draco must have recognized that years ago, Harry realized. Harry continued to run his fingers through Draco's blond hair, trying to convey support through his touch, through that connection between them.

Eventually Draco sat up. His eyes were bright and clear and he brought one of Harry's hands to his lips, gently kissing his fingers, his knuckles, his palm, before holding it to the side of his face. "I'll take whatever comes, Harry. Whatever. As long as you're with me."

"I'm with you." Harry brought his other hand to Draco's face. "I'm always with you." Draco smiled brightly. Before he could say anything else the bell to their flat rang and a man's voice called through the door: Room Service! Harry had an inspired moment. "You know what?" He began to slowly walk to the door backward. "Let's have breakfast and pretend to start the day over. No talk of owls, or parents, or _anything_ that doesn't make us happy."

"That sounds wonderful, Harry."

Harry opened the door. A worker in the hotel's blue uniform was standing by their door holding a silver cart with large wheels. Harry recognized this hotel worker briefly as he tipped his hat. Their breakfasts were on two silver trays.

"Morning, Mr. Harry, Mr. Drake." Although the door blocked the renovated kitchen, Draco was still visible from the kitchen table and he nodded back in greeting.

Harry exchanged a few more pleasantries before taking their trays to the table, balancing them like the pro he was. They ate in a comfortable silence. They ordered very different meals this time and often shared bites from their plates.

Draco finished first, like usual. He drank some juice. "I was thinking, Harry." Harry raised his eyebrows, curious. "Have you ever been to Kew Gardens?" Harry shook his head. "It's beautiful. Let's go today."

Harry had to admit it, Kew Gardens _was _beautiful. They couldn't have picked a better day either. The sun was out, it was relatively warm, and many flowers were in bloom. He and Draco tagged along with a tour, learning species and habitats that Harry had no hope and no interest in actually remembering. It was just nice to be out with Draco. Draco held his hand most the time, intertwining their fingers. He was quiet, but attentive, eyes hardly ever still taking in the surroundings, smiling whenever Harry caught him looking his way. A few times Harry thought he saw frowns directed their way, or strangers' gaze would linger just a little too long. It irked him, though it was hard to put into words precisely why. Regardless, Draco would squeeze his hand or stroke his thumb and he'd forget about it.

For lunch they decided to eat under a large tree. The shade was too chilly, so they sat with the sun on their backs. Neither had thought to bring a blanket. As Harry acted as a lookout Draco quickly transfigured his light blue jacket into a light blue blanket. Harry bought their food the old fashioned way from The Botanist, a nearby cafe. They sat and ate Calabrian cured meats, marinated tomatoes, olives and sourdough bread. It was delicious.

Harry moved so he could lean against the tree. It didn't take Draco long to follow him, laying down using Harry's leg as a pillow. He had his eyes closed, looking up. Harry wondered what he was thinking. All day he seemed far away with his deeper thoughts. Shallow thoughts he readily shared, but Harry had a feeling he was brooding over something, something that was bothering him. Their shared connection wasn't much help either. Harry just got a trickle of emotions from Draco unless he really concentrated or they were in the heat of passion. Really it was just one emotion, one emotion always: love. Even when he was quiet and pensive Draco radiated love to him. It made it easier to be patient and give him space. Harry would just continue to brush Draco's silky hair with his fingers. When he was ready to talk, he'd talk.

The better part of the day passed them by before Draco was ready to share. He sat up and touched Harry's face lightly with his fingertips.

"Ready to tell me what's bothering you?" Harry asked softly.

Draco hesitated, hand in mid air before resting on Harry's clavicle. "I don't know Harry. Do you ever feel like you're in the eye before the storm?"

"Frequently."

"I feel something is coming. A storm."

Harry clasped his own hand over Draco's. "I've weathered storms before, Draco. It's just life's rhythm." Draco gave him an answering half grin. "You're stuck with me now." Harry was smiling. "Through thick and thin. And dammit, I don't care what your mother says, you are _not _marrying some witch." Harry hadn't meant for that last part to come out, but it had been festering since this morning. It had to be said, even if it broke the promise. There was a moment of shock on Draco's face at Harry's outburst and then he laughed. Not _at _Harry per say, more out of delight. It gave Harry enough courage to say the rest of his thoughts. "You're _mine_, Draco." Merlin that felt good saying that, like it reaffirmed a cosmic truth.

Draco's face paled, which was quite an accomplishment when he was already so fair. At first Harry thought he said something wrong. Maybe he was being too possessive, but that's how Harry felt. He couldn't take it back, it would nearly break his heart. Then Draco leaned in and kissed him, kissed him like no one else existed in the world but him. It was short and intense, full of meaning. Draco kept his hands on Harry's neck. "I am yours, Harry, and you are mine."

Draco seemed in a better mood after their talk and lunch. They spent some time browsing the art galleries. Draco quietly compared muggle uses of plants with wizards. In some way they were used exactly the same, and in others, vastly different. It was fascinating how much Draco knew about the topic. Draco excused himself to use the loo and Harry glanced around at the various paintings inside the gallery. He was particularly fascinated by the painting of an orchid when he thought he heard someone call his name. Frowning, Harry rounded the corner of the art gallery. No one was in the room, but that feeling of being watched was strong here.

"Hello?" This part of the room had several tall columns with paintings on all sides. No one was visible, Harry seemed the only one in the room. Frowning, he moved around, checking corners. He still felt like he was being spied on and that whoever was watching him was just playing with him. "Is anyone there?" He rounded one more column. Nothing. Frowning, he began to backtrack back into the other room. With one more scan, he turned and ran straight into a solid body. He jumped, instincts prepared to fight or flight before he realized it was Draco, looking at him curiously.

"You alright, Harry?"

Harry exhaled a long breath and pushed his bangs off his forehead. "Yeah. Just jumping at shadows I guess."

"You sure?"

Before he could answer his back pocket vibrated and he jumped again, feeling foolish as he instantaneously answered his phone not bothering to read the numbers on the display. "Hello?"

"_Hi Harry!"_

_Hermione, _Harry mouthed to an intrigued Draco. "Hey Hermione. How's it going?"

"_Are you and Draco busy tonight? Ron and I thought we could have dinner together. We still haven't been to your restaurant."_

"Hang on, let me ask." He pulled the phone from his ear and addressed Draco. "Want to go to dinner tonight at _Seven Thirty One_?"

Draco thought for a moment, hands in pockets, and then shrugged. "Why not."

Harry smiled at him. "Draco says sure. What time you thinking?"

"_Around eight?"_

"Sounds good! See you later."

"_Bye Harry! Bye Draco!"_

Harry snapped his phone shut and checked the time before he put it back in his pocket. "That'll be fun. You ready to go home?"

Draco wrapped an arm around Harry. "I am, actually. If I have any chance of being good company I'm going to take a nap."

"Alright, Sleeping Beauty." Harry added sarcastically and good natured. Draco pinched his side in retaliation before side apparating them back to their flat.

Dinner was fun, but long. Harry and Ron sat next to each other catching up on Quidditch and business while Hermione and Draco chatted about languages and riddles. Harry's staff was excited to serve him as a customer and more than a little curious about his relationship with Drake Black. Not all his staff had been at the tasting party so many weeks ago and Harry had been pretty tight lipped about his private life except to a few, including the red haired chef Eric who came out to shake Draco's hand during a lull. True to his word, Draco was being charming and effortlessly amiable. They all drank, ate, talked, drank some more. It was a wonderful evening that went on until midnight before they all went home.

Draco was in bed for the night, dozing as Harry finished his nightly routine. "That was fun tonight, right?" Harry asked from the bathroom.

"Mmhmm."

"Did you like dinner?"

"Mmmhm."

Harry grinned as he finished brushing his teeth. "It was a good day, wasn't it?" Now he was purposefully keeping up a dialogue just to mess with Draco. He came into the bedroom.

Draco had his eyes closed, but a quirk to his lips. "And it would be a good night if you'd shut up and come to bed."

"I'm working on it, hold on." Harry went around the flat and double checked that lights were off and doors were locked before coming to bed. "Do you want water?" He called down the hall.

"No."

Harry tried to keep from laughing. "A snack?"

"No."

"An extra blanket?" Sometimes it was too easy to irritate Draco.

"Harry!"

"I'll take that as a no," Harry said to himself as he clicked off the kitchen light. In the bedroom only his lamp was on and Draco was turned away on his side, blanket up to his chin. "Hey! This isn't the sleeping arrangement, Draco, and you know it."

"It is when your lover aggravates you."

Harry turned off the light and crawled into bed. He put a hand on Draco's shoulder, pulling him slightly. He wouldn't budge. "Come on. You know I was just messing with you." Draco grunted, but made no other reply or movement. "Alright." Harry kissed Draco's shoulder through the covers. "I went too far, I'm sorry. Goodnight, Draco." Harry tried to get comfortable as quietly as possible. He went to his side, but his arm was in a funky place. He tried his back, that wasn't comfortable. He tried his other side and that was way wrong. He tried his stomach, blowing a raspberry into his pillow when that didn't work either.

"Oh for fuck's sake, come here." Draco whispered as he turned on his back. He sounded more exasperated than angry, so Harry gladly took the offer. That was better. Draco's arm was the perfect pillow, cool and curved at the right spot on his neck. And that stupid arm had a place to go now: stretched across Draco's chest. Harry breathed a deep content sigh in tandem with Draco's more vexed sigh. "You're a hot mess, Harry."

"But you love me anyway."

"But I love you anyway. Now go to sleep." And Harry did, happily.


	21. Chapter 21: Out of the Shadows

**Out of the Shadows**

Most of Draco's crankiness had vanished by morning, though he still looked tired as he dressed for the day. At least it was shades of grey, and not pitch black. Harry was learning Draco's clothes reflected his mood. He was also learning that "black" came in all different shades. Pitch black was bad news. Pitch black meant walk on eggshells. Grey was fine though. Harry was on his side watching Draco. Just seeing him, just knowing he was there made Harry happy. Even when Draco was displeased with him, like last night, he still loved him. Harry felt the same. It was liberating to not hide one's feelings all the time.

Draco sat on the bed, lacing his shoes. "What's going on in that brain of yours?"

Harry sat up and hugged his knees to his chest. "Nothing special. Are you working late tonight?"

"Hell no." In fact, he lay down on the bed, feet still on the floor, one hand reached for Harry and Harry leaned forward to take it.

"Then I won't either. I'll make something at work and bring it home. Then we can be lazy."

"Finally, something to look forward to." Draco got off the bed and kissed Harry sweetly. "Thank you. I needed that."

"Um, any day." Draco started to turn away, but Harry stopped him with a hand on his cheek. "Wait, one more thing." Then Harry was kissing Draco. The bed dipped down as Draco straddled Harry's legs, his hands on Harry's neck, his bare chest, his shoulders. One or both moaned and they continued the embrace until breathing was only absolutely necessary, breaking apart breathless. "There." Harry brushed his lip against Draco's ever so lightly. "Now you have something else to look forward to."

Draco's eyes were dark. His thumb caressed Harry's lips, his cheek. "That's certainly better than food." He got up reluctantly, fingers trailing Harry's skin until the last possible moment. Grinning, he shook his hair out of his face. "I'll see you later then."

"Bye. Have a good day."

"I will." Draco glanced at him once more. "I'll just keep this image with me." Then he spun around and he was gone.

Harry didn't have to be at _Seven Thirty One _at any particular time. He got up not long after Draco left, had some coffee and flicked through the channels on the telly. Nothing caught his eye and he turned it off. Later, right after he dressed in his chef's jacket, the bell to their flat rang. Harry thought that was odd. Only residents and hotel staff had access to their lift, and he hadn't ordered room service. He was buttoning his jacket as he came into the living room. "Coming!" He opened the door only to find an empty hallway. "Strange." Harry stepped out and looked around. "Hello?" There was no answer. Shrugging he went back in the flat and closed the door behind him. He decided to call it a fluke and finish readying for the day.

Five feet from the door the bell rang again, not once, but twice. Harry stood still, listening. The hair on his neck stood on end and he quietly moved toward the door, sliding his wand out of his jacket pocket. Without an announcement he flung the door open, wand pointing at nothing. No one was there. Harry's instincts were triggered though. He went back into the flat and closed the door.

Call it training, call it instinct, but Harry had a feeling something was off. For the next several minutes he added more wards on top of Draco's permanent wards, an added layer of protection that wouldn't interfere with the spells already in place, but would enhance them. As an after thought he also wove a protego charm around himself. Maybe Draco was right. Maybe a storm _was _coming. Or maybe Harry had an active imagination. He wasn't sure, and it was the only reason he didn't ring Draco right there. He stayed quiet for several minutes. No more bell ring, he didn't hear the lift moving, he didn't hear any sound at all except his own breathing. Doubt started to creep in. Maybe a kid was messing around. It wouldn't be hard to figure out a four number pin to the lift if you had enough time. Maybe it was just an old school ding dong ditch. He felt a little silly now. Glancing around, he left the flat for the restaurant.

Harry worked later than he meant to. When he was alone time went by faster. The evening crew wouldn't be in for another hour or so. They'd pick off where he had left off. It had been a productive day, at least. All the prep for the next couple nights were done and labelled in the fridge and freezer. That would help the staff (especially the new chef) if they got particularly busy. He also did payroll and basic ordering. How, Harry had no idea, but all the numbers balanced with his books. He grabbed a small roast chicken breast with rosemary, grilled and sauteed vegetables and prepared to leave when a soft sound caught his attention. Setting the food down on the counter, he went through the double doors into the main dining room. The lights were off; the light behind him casting strange shadows that moved and flickered.

There was the sound again, a gentle tinkling that Harry recognized. It was the sound the wine glasses made when they moved together, a clear bright sound. Frowning, Harry followed the sound until he came to a single table in the middle of the dark dining room. Four glasses had been preset on the table and they were rocking slightly, as if the table had been jostled. The sensation of being watched slammed down on Harry suddenly and forcefully. Walking backward he slowly made his way back toward the kitchen, eyes scanning the dark room for any movement. When he reached the double doors he stretched a hand inside and flicked on all the lights. The restaurant brightened, the shadows fled, and Harry had a better view now. No one was there. In the background he heard the heater to the building turn off and felt silly. It was probably just the heater hitting the glasses just right. Harry shook his head, feeling better and dismissing his feelings as paranoia. He turned off the lights and went to gather the food when his mobile rang.

Harry smile to himself as he saw Draco's number on the display. "Hey. I was just on my way home." Home. He still loved the sound of that.

"_I'm glad I caught you at work, actually."_

"Yeah?"

"_Yeah. Do you have any fruits for dessert? Whipped cream maybe?"_

"A sweet tooth? You never eat dessert."

"_Humor me."_

Harry could image the shrug that accompanied the request. "Sure. I'll be home in a few then."

"_Me too. Don't forget the whipped cream."_

And then he hung up. Harry frowned at the phone curiously, but did as Draco asked, adding a variety of fruits, honey and whipped cream to his to-go bag.

The real reason for the whipped cream became evident to Harry not long after dinner. Draco left a trail of clothing articles from the kitchen to their bedroom, undressing Harry and undressing himself with a devious smirk that made Harry forget the dishes sitting undone in the sink. Harry didn't even know whipped cream _had _another purpose other than going on desserts. Apparently _dessert _had different connotations as well. Draco was in a good mood, all the clothes were finished, he could start on a new line and he felt like celebrating. All of that was fine with Harry. It was hard to think of anything that beat Draco's undivided attention and ministrations. Harry was swept up in loving kisses, gentle bites and nibbles, roaming hands and Draco's presence all around him. It was Draco's big accomplishment, really Harry should have been spoiling _him, _but Draco dispelled that idea. He was having too much fun. So Harry let him until he was so close to coming that it hurt. Draco was hard too, Harry could feel him against his legs, his stomach, his own arousal. That was when Harry asserted his own control, sitting up and pushing a surprised Draco on his back.

Harry went down on Draco, using his mouth and hands. Draco gasped and threw his head to the side. Still, Harry wasn't done. He continued until he didn't think Draco could handle anymore and then he stopped, withdrawing slowly. Draco was trying to catch his breath, watching Harry with desire and a bit of curiosity. Why had he stopped? He could see the question in Draco's eyes and the longing to continue. So, Harry obliged, drawing himself up and inserting Draco inside him as he lowered himself down and down. Harry's breathing was rapidly increasing as well. Damn, it just felt so good, and then there was Draco looking at him, wanting him, _him_! It made pleasuring Draco that much better and Harry moved, loving the feeling of Draco in him, loving the total abandonment on Draco's face, just loving _everything_. This position took more work and soon Harry was sweating, but he didn't care. He could feel Draco nearing the edge and knew he wouldn't be far behind.

"Fuck, Harry." Draco grabbed the sheets, every inch of his body alive and moving under Harry.

Harry grinned, "That's the idea, isn't it?"

Draco grabbed both sides of Harry's waist and held him down, pressing firmly as he thrust from underneath. His back arched up, Harry's arched back and together they came. Harry's was ready for the flood of emotions that came with their climax. It rocked him as Draco continued to rock in him and then settled over him as Draco pulled him to lie on top of him. Harry was close to Draco's face, nestled between his neck and chin and he allowed Draco's feelings to fill him. Normally he only got emotions from Draco, but tonight he _heard _snippets of his thoughts. _...can...do...this...forever...Damn, Harry, but I love you._

"I love you too," Harry kissed Draco's chin.

A startled realization showed on Draco's face, transforming to a gentler, softer expression as Draco wrapped his arms around Harry. They were backward on the bed, heads at the foot, but it didn't seem to bother Draco, so it didn't bother Harry, though he did rearrange himself so that he was stretched out along Draco and not hunched over. They stayed that way, Harry caressing Draco's chest and Draco trailing his fingers along Harry's spine. Both knew they'd have to get up eventually. Not only was Harry sweating, he was sticky too from the whipped cream. That didn't seem to matter. Harry just allowed Draco's love and caring flow into him until the connection faded. Oddly, Harry thought the connection was stronger this time, not as closed as a before. Like the door was left just a tad bit more open. It was intoxicating to feel Draco's love. Harry, who spent the first decade alive abused and unloved, drank up Draco's love as if he had been in a drought. He'd never get enough though, needed Draco now like he needed air in his lungs. Wouldn't, maybe couldn't, live without him.

Draco made a strange choking sound. "Harry." Oh, but how Harry loved it when Draco said his name that way. Draco moved, hovering over Harry's form on the bed using his left arm for support. "Harry...Harry…" Cool hands touched his leg, his waist, his arms, and cool lips met his own. This kiss was a different kind a passion, not designed to raise ardor, but to exchange a message: Draco needed Harry too.

They lay together for a while longer before silently getting up for a shower. The sooner they were clean, the sooner they would get back into bed. After cleaning and readying for bed, lights were off and Harry was being held by Draco. Harry inhaled deeply, taking in the unique smell that was Draco mixed with their soap and shampoo. It wasn't very late, they'd retired early, and now Harry found himself with a second wind.

"Harry? What did you want to be when you grew up? You know, before you knew you were a wizard."

Apparently Draco had a second wind as well. "Hmm, let me think. It was such a long time ago." Draco stroked his arm as he waited. "I don't think I had anything concrete, just an idea: away from the Dursleys. I was good with animals. A vet maybe."

"I can see that. You have a calming temperament."

"Thank you?" Draco kissed his head so Harry figured it was supposed to be a compliment. "What about you?"

"Me? Don't be absurd. As a child I was raised to be a Malfoy. We didn't _work_."

Harry grinned. "Careful, Draco. Your snob is showing."

"Ha ha."

"Did you ever want brothers and sisters?" Harry asked curiously.

"Sometimes, but not for very good reasons.

"What do you mean?"

Draco sighed. "I had an awful lot of pressure on me. I thought maybe a sibling could take some of the burden."

Harry made a face. "You're right, that's not a very good reason."

He felt Draco shrug. "I was a child." He didn't sound at all repentant. Nothing more was said for a long while. Harry just listened to Draco's steady heart beat, his head rising and falling with each of Draco's breath. It started to lull him into sleep. Harry yawned and snuggled closer, squeezing Draco in a quick hug. Draco returned the gesture, gently holding Harry's head to chest. "Ready for sleep?"

"Yes, but I'm being stubborn and don't want to."

Harry felt Draco's deep chuckle rumble through his ear. "Why not?"

"Because I'm enjoying this." He yawned through the last word.

"Love, go to sleep. I'll be here in the morning." A promise.

Harry's eyes were already closed; sleep was pulling him under. "I love you too, Draco."

It didn't feel like a very long time later when Harry was roused by Draco getting out of bed. Half asleep, he grumpily wanted a reason for his desertion. "Where are you going?"

"Listen. A mobile is ringing."

Sure enough Harry could make out the familiar ringtone of his mobile. "I think that's mine. What time is it?"

"Midnight maybe. I'll be right back."

Harry flopped to his side and tried to keep his eyes open, waiting for Draco to return. A few minutes later he heard Draco's soft footsteps enter the room. "Who was it?"

"No one. The line was just blank. I turned it off, is that ok?" Draco was climbing into bed as he spoke, reaching for Harry in the darkness.

"Yeah. It was probably just a prank call."

And they fell back asleep.

_Ding dong! Ding dong! Ding dong! _Draco and Harry both sat up as the doorbell sounded off three quick times in succession. "What the hell?"

Harry remembered yesterday and the similar occurrence. "This happened yesterday, too. Think there's a short?"

Draco gave him a look that implied it unlikely. Harry felt the bed move and watched Draco's silhouette as it left the room. Harry waited, head tilted, listening. The door opened and then shut. Draco returned a few moments later, shaking his head. "There's no one there." He came back to bed, but remained sitting up, one leg bent at the knee.

Harry turned to his side, head propped up by folding his softer pillow in two. "What are you thinking?"

Draco was quiet, a tapping toe any indication of being unsettled. He took a deep breath. "I'm thinking these aren't coincidences."

"What? That they're all connected?"

"Yes...that Death Eater."

Harry sat up. "That was almost a month ago. Isn't it possible he just left?"

"No, he's still out there. And I bet he's been watching, learning, waiting…"

Watching? Harry suddenly remembered the time on the train when he had the uncomfortable sensation of being watched. And then again at the Gardens. Harry could have sworn someone was there, studying him, watching him. And more recently at the restaurant. "Draco...I didn't want to mention this, I honestly thought it was nothing, but I think someone's been following me lately."

A surge of pure terror and alarm shocked Harry through his connection from Draco, almost knocking the air out of him. Draco reached and found his arm in the dark. "What are you talking about?"

And so Harry told him. "But each time I figured it was nothing...an overactive imagination."

"Shit."

That pretty much summed up Harry's feelings as well. Before Harry could answer another mobile began to ring, this time Draco's. It was on a set of cheshire drawers lining the wall and it was loud in the night, flashing a dull yellow light. Harry looked at Draco, expectantly. Draco folded his arms over his chest. He wasn't in the mood to answer. Curiously, Harry got out of bed.

"Harry, don't."

Too late, Harry flipped the phone open. "Hello. Drake Black's phone."

A snicker came from the other end. "_Drake Black. You mean Draco Malfoy, don't you? Harry Potter? Late to be keeping company, isn't it?"_

Harry turned toward Draco, gesturing for him to come. "What of it?"

"_It's unwise to sleep with serpents, Harry. They tend to bite!" _The voice laughed and Harry questioned if there was much sanity left in a man who laughed like that. "_Now, let me speak to Malfoy. We have unfinished business."_

Harry extended the phone out to Draco, who took it uneasily. "He wants to talk to you."

With a deep breath Draco put the phone to his ear. "What do you want?" Harry tried to listen, but he only caught bits and pieces of the other side of the conversation. Draco only responded in single words, short, clipped and even in the dark Harry could make out the scowl on Draco's face.

Harry concentrated, tried to listen in. What he got was a surprise. He started _hearing_ Draco again, but in his head, his heart, inside. _Not Harry...give anything...not Harry...could leave...Not Harry..._Draco snapped the phone shut and threw it on the ground. It didn't break and by the look of disappointment on Draco's face he had wanted it to. Draco glanced at Harry and quickly looked away, moving toward the bed. He sat down shakily. _Can't...dammit, I can't...Must..._Harry followed him, holding him down, one hand on each shoulder. "No, Draco." Harry's voice was firm, commanding and Draco stared up at him, face warily blank. "I can _hear _you, here." He pointed to his chest. "You can't leave again."

Draco's face turned defiant and he brushed one of Harry's hands off his shoulder. "What do you know about it?" _Make...mad...shit, stupid b...o….n...d._

Harry felt their connection narrow. A bond, Draco called it. What kind of bond? Harry shook his head slightly and put his hand back on Draco's shoulder. "I still know what you're doing. Listen to me Draco, I understand you, I do. But you leaving isn't the answer this time."

For a moment Harry thought Draco was going to argue. His eyes were narrowed, his lips in a thin line. He was glowering at Harry from behind his blond hair. Harry refused to move, he refused to react at all. It was what Draco wanted, needed in order to leave or to throw Harry out, and he refused to play along. Finally after several moments of silence Draco's expression shifted from anger to fear and worry. He rest his head on Harry's stomach. "Harry, you...you didn't hear him. You don't know."

"It doesn't matter. Look," he tilted Draco's head up and kissed him gently. "He either doesn't know where we are or he can't get through the wards. He wants us to panic so we make stupid mistakes. It's a tactic."

"I'm a liability Harry, a risk."

"No. We're stronger together, Draco." Harry caressed his face. "Where I go, you go? Remember?"

Draco pulled him closer, holding him tight. "I remember." He whispered, his voice thick with emotion. Their connection (bond?) widened again and Harry was able to feel a new resolve in Draco. He wasn't going to leave; he was going to stay and protect Harry.

Harry continued to hold him in the darkness, rubbing his back. "I'll protect you too. Come on, come back to bed. I want your arms around me." Harry was already climbing back under the covers, a chill not altogether from the temperature settling around him.

Draco hesitated, sitting on the edge a few minutes more before getting up and retrieving his mobile from the floor. He held a button down until it powered off and then tossed it back on the drawers. Only then did he come back to bed, instantly reaching out for Harry. He was rattled, Harry could tell, even though he was doing his best to tamper down the anxiety. Instead of settling into Draco's arms, Harry pulled Draco to him, the cooler man's face against his neck, his arms resting on Harry's, and their legs intertwined. Harry held him, stroked his back and tried to push as much calmness and surety through their connection that he could. He didn't know how long they stayed like that until they began to doze again, but one of Harry's last conscious thoughts was to ask Draco what he meant about a bond.

The doorbell rang again, startling Harry and Draco for a fourth time in what was rapidly becoming one of the longest nights in Harry's life. Draco lifted his head and glanced down at Harry, wary. The sun wasn't quite up yet, but the blackest part of the night was over. Harry could see Draco's apprehension clearly etched on his face. Neither moved to answer the door, but they listened. The bell rang again, this time followed by several quick knocks.

"Drake! Harry! Wake up!"

Draco scrambled off Harry. "Brian?" He grabbed a robe and shrugged into as he ran into the living room, Harry following quickly behind as he struggled into his robe.

He got into the living room just as a frazzled looking Brian walked in. "I've been trying to get a hold of you! It's gone, Drake! All of it."

"What's gone?" Draco put a hand on Brian's shoulder, trying to calm him down.

"The warehouse. The clothes. Burned down!"

Draco spared Harry a glance before rushing down the hall. Harry gestured to Brian. "Hang on, wait here." And then he was hurrying back to their room. Draco was already half dressed, throwing a regular shirt over his head. "Hold on, Draco. You're not going without me."

"Harry…" He was pleading, asking for him to hurry.

"I know. Wait." Harry was dressing as he was talking, pants on, shirt on, pulling on boots as Draco looked around agitated.

"Where's my wand?"

Harry pointed down the hall. "Pants, floor." A remnant of their evening before.

Draco was gone in a flurry. Harry hurried to his new closet and pushed through all his clothes until he found what he was looking for hanging on a closet. He grabbed the garment, folded it tightly and put it under his arm before rushing into the main room. Brain was pacing, looking pale, ill, sweating and wringing his hands. Draco grabbed Brian's elbow, wand in hand. "Harry?"

"Yeah, go. I'll be right behind you." With a nod, Draco and Brian vanished. Harry grabbed a light jacket and his wand, apparating a view seconds behind.

The scene was calming down as Harry popped into view. He knew the area rather well by now and was able to watch the fire brigade roll up their hoses, men in yellow jackets yelling and communicating over the noise of truck engines. Blue flickering lights cast an odd glow over the wreckage as Harry finally saw what was left of the warehouse. Though made mostly of brick, the building was destroyed. Black scorch marks stained the brick, the windows were broken, glass blown out by the fire. The roof was gone, collapsed either by the fire or the weight of the water. Bricks were still falling, crumbling to the ground, rattling as they fell from window seals or from the taller parts of the walls. White wisps of smoke drifted up in certain corners. The fire was out, but it had done its job well.

Harry searched through the crowd (some early morning commuters were standing on a perimeter) until he spotted Draco talking to a firefighter. His head was down, arms crossed and Harry began to make his way over. Halfway through the crowd a firefighter stopped him in his path. Draco must have heard him, or sensed him, because he called out to let Harry pass. Harry came to stand next to Draco who was staring at the building. Brian was next to him, a hand covering his face.

"What did they say?" Harry asked quietly.

"They advised we stay out until it cools down."

"Are we listening?"

"No."

"I didn't think so. Brian, stay here. If anyone asks where we went, say to find a phone." Harry unfolded the cloak from under his arm, glancing around to make sure they were unseen. Draco was watching him with appreciation and ducked under the cloak with Harry. He had to bend down, but once they were sure they were covered, they snuck into the building. Draco's wand was out, flicking left and right, creating supporting spells so the whole thing didn't cave in on them. Once inside and unseen, Harry pulled off the cloak and tucked it back under his arm.

"Nice thinking, Harry." Draco was already looking around at the damage to the main part of the warehouse, shaking his head. "Damn."

"Can we fix some of it?"

He made a face. "Maybe some, but not much without raising suspicion."

Harry watched as Draco made his way to a corner of the warehouse, stepping over fallen bricks, carefully moving around obstacles. In the meantime, Harry starting looking around himself. Almost all the brick rubble was black from fire. Some bricks were intact, but others were crumbling. Brick was hard to destroy from fire. It would take an immense amount of heat to leave bricks disintegrating with a touch. Curious, Harry investigated closer. There was something familiar to this scene, something he'd seen before as an Auror. He made his way to a corner, stepping around the carnage of melted and deformed tables, piles of brick, a whole light unit had fallen from the ceiling. Near a corner Harry found what he was looking for; a blast mark that was made from a certain spell. Harry bit his lip and started searching for more. He found nearly ten spell marks before he called out to Draco. "This wasn't an accident." Draco made his way through the debris, following Harry's pointing. "This was deliberate, and it was magic." Draco looked around uneasily. "I don't think he's here," Harry offered. "This was a message, that he can get to us." Harry's eyes widened. "I have to get to restaurant."

He was about to disapparate when Draco stalled him, "Hold on. I'm coming too."

Harry apparated them directly into the dark dining room. Both had their wands out, back to back, spells at the ready. When no attack came, Harry lowered his wand. Draco cast _lumos_, a white light spread throughout the room from the tip of Draco's wand. "Hurry, Harry."

Harry nodded and began casting wards around his building. Some were easy; structure wards to help prevent damage, some were more complicated, like limiting who could apparate inside and out. Harry cast a variation of _protego _on the whole building, tying the spell around itself so that it would be nearly permanent. He also cast a twist on an avoidance spell; this was designed to keep wizards away, not muggles. It didn't take him long, but the effort left him tired and drained. He leaned against a table, wobbly.

"Are you alright?" Draco held his elbow, steadying him.

"Haven't done that much magic in a while," Harry responded with a weak voice. "Let me get some chocolate, I'll be alright." Gingerly he went into the kitchen, Draco following with the tip of his wand lighting the way. In a fridge was bars of chocolate from Spain they used for desserts and Harry grabbed one, unwrapping it and eating it as he leaned into Draco. "You ready to go back?"

Draco nodded and cast the spell that returned them to the warehouse. They were a ways from the remaining commotion. No one seemed to be looking for them and together they came to stand by Brian, who was still looking toward the building anxiously. "It won't be a total loss," Draco said.

Brian jumped nearly out his skin. "Jesus, Joseph and Mary. Don't do that!"

Harry looked around. The sun was just starting to come up in the east, tiny tendrils of pink and yellow peaking over the buildings. "Let's go back home. You too, Brian. There's nothing we can do here for now. Not with so many people."

With a sigh, Draco found a firefighter, gave him his mobile number and then began walking home with Harry and Brian. Once they were sure they were out of sight they apparated directly into the flat, Draco side apparating Brian along. All three men moved toward the kitchen table. Draco and Brian sat, both with their heads in their hands. Harry didn't know what to say to them. To work so hard and for so long and then have it all destroyed...Harry could feel some of Draco's sadness and anger and despair and imagined Brian had similar feelings. Harry made coffee and as it brewed, put a hand on Draco's shoulder. "We'll rebuild it, Draco. And, we'll save what we can." Harry saw one side of Draco's lips turn up in a quick, grateful smile before returning to his frown. "But for now, we have bigger problems. This Death Eater has sent us a message: He knows who we are in both worlds."

Brian looked confused. "A death eater? Who eats death? What are you talking about?"

Draco sat up, brushing hair out of his eyes. "He's a Dark wizard, Brian. A wizard unfortunately determined to end my life."

"What? Why?"

"Long story." Draco said with a low voice, nearly a growl.

Harry poured some coffee. "We need to tell the Ministry, Draco. The Aurors can help."

"No!" He hit the table with a fist. "The Aurors are part of the problem, Harry."

Harry bit his lip and handed Draco and Brian their mugs. "What about Ron then? And Neville. You can trust them."

Draco sipped his coffee, wincing as he burned his tongue. Brian just held his cup, keeping quiet. You could see it in his face that he was out of his league.

"They need to know anyway," Harry continued. "If this Death Eater has been following me, he knows I'm close to Ron and Hermione. Hell, even Brian isn't safe."

That seemed to sway Draco. "Fine. Ron and Neville then. I _don't _like it though, Harry. I don't want them involved."

Harry bent down so he was eye level with Draco. "We don't always get what we want, but we can get what we need. And we _need_ help." Draco nodded, just once. "Where's my mobile?" Harry asked gently, remembering Draco was the last to have it.

"On the coffee table."

Harry retrieved it, and powered it on, ignoring the voicemail notifications. They were either from Brian or from the Death Eater and he didn't want to hear either. He dialed Hermione's number and waited as it rang several times. He thought maybe it would go to voicemail, but finally Hermione's voice came through.

"_Hi Harry! You're up early. Can we make this quick? I'm on my way to work."_

That would be good, Harry thought. The Ministry was one of the most well guarded places. She'd be safe there. "Actually, I was hoping to talk to Ron."

"_Sure. Talk to you later, then." _There was a pause as the phone was transferred. "_Hey, Harry. What's happening?" _

Harry knew he was just greeting him, but the words were coincidentally perfect. "A lot, actually. Can we meet you at your place?"

"_Yeah...what's going on Harry?" _There was genuine concern now.

"I'll tell you when we get there. And, can you get in touch with Neville. Have him meet us as well if you can."

"_Alright, Harry. See you in a few."_


	22. Chapter 22: Walls Come in Different Size

**Walls Come in Different Sizes**

It was about an hour later, the tale had been told, and now silence fell over the room. Harry and Draco sat side by side on Ron and Hermione's couch, Ron sat in the large chair, Brian in a chair borrowed from the kitchen and Neville was pacing in the entryway. Harry and Draco had told them everything. Harry surprising Draco when he mentioned he'd looked into his file and Draco surprising them all when he recounted how the whole mess started when he was nineteen and his deep mistrust of Auror Maximus Cooke. Everyone had been told new information and they quietly digested it in their own way.

Neville was the one to finally break the silence. "Let me go to Headquarters. I know they haven't revoked my clearance."

"What if Cooke is there and asks questions?" Draco asked.

"I'll act clueless." Neville gave a shrug. "They always underestimated me anyway."

"Alright. But quickly, Neville." Harry wasn't sure this was a good idea, but didn't have any other ideas either. Neville nodded and disapparated. The four other men continued to sit in silence, unsure what to do until Neville returned. Harry turned to Draco. "You know, there was no record of you actually _killing _anyone in your file."

"Fucking Cooke. I never knew if I really did. I was just trying to make life easier for my parents, Harry. I didn't know it was going to haunt me forever."

"I know." Harry said softly as he placed a hand on Draco's knee.

"What _do _you know about Auror Cooke, Harry?" Ron asked as he leaned forward. "I remember him, but I don't know anything about him."

"Just an Auror. Lost his family in the First Wizarding War."

"Can we trust him?"

"No." Came Draco's curt reply.

Harry hesitated. "I'd hate to cast doubt on any Auror...but…" He blew out his breath loudly. "I don't know."

"The bastard ruined my life," Draco said bitterly. "Don't trust him. Who blackmails a nineteen year old?"

Harry squeezed Draco's knee. "He isn't fond of you, that's true, but is it enough to say he purposely sabotaged you?"

"Yes."

Harry kept quiet, and so did Ron. Draco's earlier worry and fear had solidified into anger and rage. Right now he was lashing out and Auror Cooke seemed as good a target as any, so Harry let him. Besides, some of what Draco said was making sense. The redacted report that Cooke handed him had been a sham. Only a high ranking Auror could have edited it so ruthlessly and he had been the only Auror on duty that day. His preoccupation with Draco's affiliation with the Death Eaters also worried Harry. Plenty people had renounced their loyalty to Voldemort, why had it seemed that Draco's rejection was personal? Too many questions. That remind him… "Draco, what's our bond?"

The color from Draco's face drained and oddly enough Ron's face turned bright red. Brian just looked back and forth, lost. "Can we talk about this later?" Draco said low and rushed.

Harry was about to argue when Ron chimed in. "Yeah, later is better. _Private _is better."

Draco spared Ron a gratified look that did nothing to ease Harry's curiosity. However, he was outnumbered. He kept quiet if only to spare Ron some embarrassment, thought of what, he didn't know.

Thankfully Neville apparated back into the living room, looking worried. "Draco's file is completely missing...and...so is Auror Cooke. He hasn't been seen in a couple days."

Draco made a face. "What the hell does that mean?"

"I don't know," Neville replied. "Some say he went on vacation, some say he's investigating a case. The whole place is in disarray, Harry."

"I know. I thought the same when I was there too." Harry stood. "So? What do we do?"

"Be vigilant." Neville said with a sigh.

"Be vigilant?" Draco got up, angry. "Constant vigilance? Sounds familiar. You Aurors are all the same. _Dammit_." He turned and walked down the hall, slamming a door behind him.

Harry glanced in his direction, but let him be. "Mad-Eye Moody...another Auror that Draco has no reason to like."

Ron and Neville's faces flickered recognition. Though not really Moody, everyone thought it was the Auror who had turned Draco into a white weasel, tormenting him for trying to hex Harry behind his back. At the time Harry had thought it funny and no less than what Draco deserved. Now though, he could see how it would leave a bad taste in Draco's mouth.

Neville winced. "Sorry."

"It's not your fault." Harry paced back and forth a few times. "Neville, can Brian stay with you and Luna for a few days? Maybe have her make him a charm or an amulet."

"She'd be happy to."

"And in the meantime, watch your backs. This Death Eater knows who I am and he's been watching. Sure up your defenses. I'm going to talk to Draco and go back home."

"Harry," Ron got up and touched his shoulder. "Be careful."

"I will." Harry watched as Neville shook Brian's hand and apparated away, leaving just he and Ron in the living room.

"I'm going to the shop. Might as well add a few more protections, though there are plenty already." Ron followed Harry's gaze down the hall. "Take your time."

"Thanks, Ron."

Harry knocked on Hermione's sitting room door and then walked in, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

Draco was facing a far wall, head down, arms crossed tightly on his chest. "I'm sorry, Harry." He said without looking. "I shouldn't have yelled at him. I wasn't even mad at him."

"He knows." Harry took his time, glancing at some of the pictures. Draco was practically radiating anger, a targetless anger that was willing to lash out at anyone or anything. Harry kept his distance, giving Draco time. This was new to Harry, this side of Draco. He'd seen him desperate, loving, happy, sad, and mad, but not this raging anger that had nowhere to go. Harry knew that feeling, knew what it was like to be mad at everyone and everything. He'd experienced it once when Voldemort had tried to possess him. Love had been the only thing strong enough to break through, so Harry was silently sending him love and reassurance as he gazed at the pictures on the wall. Eventually Harry felt a great release of pent up energy from Draco and the blond gave one quiet laugh as he walked over to Harry, resting his head on the back of Harry's shoulder.

"Thank you." He said softly. There was much more implied with those two simple words. Thank you for patience, thank you for kindness, thank you for the love.

Harry understood all the meanings. "You're welcome." He turned to face Draco, lightly caressing his face with this fingers. "Do you want to see what we can salvage from the shop? I'll keep watch."

"Yeah." He took a deep breath and leaned into Harry's hand. "Brian?"

"I sent him home with Neville. He'll be safe there."

Draco held Harry's hand to his cheek, slowly closing his eyes. He was enjoying the silence, Harry realized. A moment of peace in an already eventful day. It wasn't even noon yet, but Draco had dark circles under his eyes.

Harry spotted the oversized chair that Hermione loved so much and led Draco over. "Come here. Sit with me for a minute."

"Harry…"

"No, listen. We're safe, for now. Come here." Harry took Draco's hand and pulled him down on the chair. They both fit, but just barely if they turned toward each other. Their knees were hitting, but Draco brought his on top of Harry's and that solved that problem. They leaned against the chair, facing each other and Harry held Draco's hands in his, fingers intertwined.

Draco closed his eyes again, breathing in and out deeply. When he opened them again they were lined with regret. "I never meant to drag you into this. I should have stayed away."

Despite his words, Harry could feel how much it hurt Draco to say those words, but also the truth in them. "I would have found you, eventually." Harry said with a quick grin. "I was trying so hard to be normal when you left, but I wasn't alright. I think a part of me was gearing up to search for you anyway. Well, once I got passed the anger."

"I…nevermind."

"What?" Harry encouraged him to keep talking. "You can tell me."

"I was near insanity, Harry." Draco tightened his grip on Harry's fingers. "I nearly jumped off a building."

Harry tried to see if he was joking, but Draco's face was serious and lined with pain. Remembering back, Harry now understood Brian's very real panic. He had thought it was from seeing Draco disapparate. Now, Harry understood it was because Brian knew how vulnerable Draco had been. "Why would you do that?" Harry wanted to understand.

Draco sighed. "I thought you'd hate me again, this time forever. The only thing that kept me from jumping was Brian. He told me to see you, talk it out. That apparition from New York was more desperation than skill. I figured I'd make it, or not. If not…well, problem solved."

"Draco…"

"So, I'm sorry again. This is all my fault."

Harry touched Draco's closed eyelids, his lips, his cheeks. "It's worth it. Everyone has issues to deal with. It's life."

"_Most _issues aren't literally life or death."

Harry laughed. "Alright, I'll give you that." Draco kissed Harry's fingers. "Ready to go?" Draco leaned forward and gently kissed Harry before nodding in agreement.

They spent a tense hour back at the warehouse. Draco was finding melted plastic bins with burnt clothes and hastily repairing them while Harry stood guard. Everyone noise made them jump, every brick scrape, sound of stirring and Harry was at the ready, wand drawn. Draco was able to save seven bins of clothes before they decided to call it quits. Some Draco magicked into his stores, some he transferred to their flat. He'd make it seem they were in transit and had avoided the fire.

The next couple days were spent on high alert. Nerves were short, days long, and nothing else seemed to happen. Draco spent most of his time pacing the flat. He didn't dare go out, and he had nowhere to go anyway. Brian visited once or twice, sporting a heavy looking amulet that was warded against magic. It wouldn't stop an Unforgivable, but it was something. He was spending his time scouting for new locations, getting price quotes and dealing with insurance. Harry never thought he'd see Draco envious of dealing with mundane affairs. Harry was sympathetic to Draco's plight. It seemed everyone had somewhere safe to go outside the flat, except Draco. Harry could go to _Seven Thirty One, _Brian had his amulet, Ron had his shop, Hermione had work, Neville had Hogwarts, and even Luna had St. Mungo's. Draco was virtually a prisoner in his own home and after a week of imprisonment, his temper was shot.

Harry came home early from work because he felt something was wrong. The feeling was like ants crawling all over you, not quite biting, but thousands of tiny legs marching up and down from neck to feet. It made concentrating difficult. Draco kept his mobile turned off so Harry had no way to contact him. When the feeling became unbearable Harry said goodnight to his workers and headed home. Harry came through the door quietly, not sure what to expect. Eyebrows lifted, Harry gazed around. He heard cupboards slamming open and shut in the room somewhere followed by muttered curses. Harry came in, shrugging out of his jacket, but keeping quiet. Draco came down the hall, long strides eating up the distance. He looked wild, feral, blond hair unstyled around his face, eyes wide. He had a half empty decanter in his right hand as he walked passed Harry without giving any indication he saw him. Noisily he opened the kitchen cabinets and slammed them shut. Taking a swig from the bottle, he threw a kitchen chair to the floor. Harry jumped from the sound. Next came the other six chairs. Draco put the bottle on the counter and flipped the table, looking pleased as he took another drink.

Harry figured now was as good as any to disrupt the temper tantrum. "Redecorating?" Draco spun startled. "It's an interesting look." Harry motioned for the bottle and after a moment of consideration Draco handed it over. Harry smelled it, eyes watering. It was a strong spirit. "How much have you had?"

Draco shrugged. "Some."

Harry returned the decanter to their wet bar before taking a deep breath. He stepped to the table, grabbing the edge. "Here, help me with this." Draco hesitated; Harry could see the defiance warring on his face, but it was short lived. With a sigh he grabbed the other end and put the table right side up. Silently they picked the chairs up, scooting them into place. Harry could feel Draco's resentment, his embarrassment, his anger as the blond turned away and collapsed on the couch. Harry followed, leaning over the couch. He waited patiently. Draco was obviously vexed. Harry would wait until he was ready to talk. In the meanwhile, he put his elbows on the couch and rested his chin on his hands. It wasn't long before Draco blew out his breath.

"I'm going stir crazy, Harry. Walls, walls, walls." He pointed as he talked. Harry was glad to see Draco's expression had settled. It wasn't as wild as before. "I need to get out of here."

Harry came around and sat next to Draco, who pulled up his legs to make room. "Well...that can be problematic."

"Yes, I know."

There was something in they way he avoided Harry's eyes that made Harry think Draco had a plan. "But you've thought of something haven't you?"

"Maybe." He sat up reaching for Harry's hands. "Do you want to hear it?"

"By all means. I'd like to come home to an _intact_ flat next time, if you don't mind."

He had the decency to look bashful. "Sorry."

"I know." Harry stroked the back of Draco's hand with his fingers. "So? What's the plan?"

"Malfoy Manor."

"What?"

"Malfoy Manor." Draco sat up, feet on the floor. "I went not long ago. All the wards are still intact. The gardens would be beautiful right now. _And _it's a full moon. Plenty of light."

Harry hesitated. It was easy to get swept up in Draco's excitement. The possibility of fresh air and open spaces; Harry could tell how much Draco wanted and needed it, but he still was afraid. Even though there hadn't been any sound of the Death Eater lately didn't meant he wasn't out there.

Draco also saw Harry's hesitation. "Please Harry."

"Alright, alright. But, I'm going on record as saying this is a bad idea."

Grinning, Draco got to his feet and pulled Harry into an embrace. "It's not the _worst _idea I've ever had, though, is it?"

"No...but I'm not sure that's saying something."

Draco kissed Harry briefly on the lips and on the cheek before grabbing his wand off the coffee table. He held Harry's hand. "You'll love the grounds, Harry." Then they were apparating away.

Draco inhaled a deep breath of clean air and let it out slowly. Being outside was calming his frayed nerves. It was even a little fun showing Harry the massive grounds of Malfoy Manor, though he kept them clear of the actual house. Harry was looking around in wonder as they strolled through the topiary garden. The house elves had been doing their jobs even without their masters. The plants were well trimmed, the paths clear. This part of the garden was a bit of a maze, but Draco had memorized it's dead ends and paths long ago. In the distance he could hear the peacocks cawing and the water from the fountains. It was peaceful and exactly what Draco needed. They rounded a corner and Harry gasped at some of the fantastical creatures designed into the garden.

"These are lovely, Draco." He chuckled. "My aunt and uncle would lose their minds. They always prided themselves on having the best shrubs on Privet Drive. Amateurs."

Draco smiled back as he held Harry's hand. "This was one of my favorite places growing up. I'd sneak out sometimes and come here to look at the stars, to be alone." He was feeling better without solid walls around him. Staying in the flat day in and day out had started to feel like a prison. Draco was never one to be claustrophobic, but he had started to hate that feeling. This, this was much better.

"I use to like to get away too. There was a park nearby that I'd visit. Nothing as nice as this though."

"My father has his moments."

They continued through the topiary garden, Draco occasionally pointing out some of his more favorite sculptures until they eventually reached the end. The greenery of the topiary garden gave way to a small copse of birch trees, their silver bark glistening in the moonlight. Draco led the way confidently, but Harry pulled back.

"We should go, Draco. It's getting late."

"I know, but let me show you one more thing. There's a meadow here." He held out his hand. Harry sighed but took it, following him. "It should be in full bloom right now." Draco glanced up as they wove through the forest. One ancestor or another had build this wood to keep fowl. His father didn't like to hunt so it had been allowed to go a little native. His mother had been the one to plant wildflowers in the clearing in the middle of the wood. The trees thinned and soon gave way to the meadow. Draco smiled as Harry took it all in, green eyes wide and bright in the moonlight.

"Look, look Draco!"

And so Draco did. The meadow was covered in lush long grass, dark green like Harry's eyes. Bright blue flowers were in bloom, their petals wide open to the heavens. Draco glanced up. The moon cast a silver glow over the world and suddenly Draco knew what Harry meant. "It's our dream…" Harry laughed in delight and it filled Draco's heart. He reached for Harry, wrapping his arms around him and kissing him thoroughly in the moonlight, Harry responding gladly. It was blissful and peaceful. Draco should have known it couldn't last.

The first blast of magic was searing hot and loud, throwing Harry and Draco away in opposite directions. Draco's back hit the ground and he rolled over, trying to put a tree between him and his attacker. His ears were ringing and the air had been knocked out of him, but he got to his feet. The taste of blood was in his mouth and he spit it out as he called out. "Harry!" His answer was a spell of angry red shattering the tree he was using as shelter. A few splintered tree shards dug into his right shoulder. "Shit." He dug them out, throwing them on the ground as he ran to another tree. A cloud covered the moon, casting the wood into darkness with sporadic bursts of light. "Harry! Talk to me!" Draco was ready for the retaliatory magic this time, weaving a quick _protego _that kept the tree up, but knocked him off his feet. He was starting to panic the longer he went without hearing Harry's voice. He tried to calm himself long enough to concentrate on their bond, but his own fear and panic got in the way. Another blast of magic came his way, this time it got through the shield. The tree shattered into thousands of sharp wooden needles. Draco put his arm up, crying out as shrapnel sunk into his skin.

"Traitor!" A figure charged at him from the darkness. Draco expected a magical attack, he was unprepared when the man wrapped his hands around Draco's neck. The man was right in Draco's face; the long tooth identified him as the same Death Eater from the docks and he squeezed Draco's windpipe. Draco dropped his wand, struggling to keep the man's hands from tightening more around him.

Draco dropped to his knees and the Death Eater kept up the pressure, hovering over Draco. He tried to suck in a breath. Nothing came. Black splotches danced before Draco's eyes. The Death Eater was watching him, glee in his brown eyes. Draco wasn't sure how much longer he could last. He closed his eyes. He heard a thud and then the pressure on his neck let up. He coughed, gasping. Something was being pressed into his hand. A high pitched ringing was in his ears. As he blinked, he saw Harry's face, dirt smudged, scratched and bleeding. He was yelling at Draco. At first he couldn't hear him, but the ringing faded.

"Get up! Get up now, Draco!" With Harry's help, Draco scrambled to his feet. Harry dropped a heavy branch as he pulled Draco. The Death Eater was on the ground, but moving. "We need to go." Harry began the apparition spell, but nothing happened. "Shit!" He looked at Draco apologetically. "He's warded off apparition."

The Death Eater laughed as he got to his feet. "Nowhere to run. We end this here. No apparition, no running."

Harry continued to pull Draco behind some trees for cover, but kept his eyes toward the Death Eater. "Are you alright?"

"I'm alright." Draco lied. His throat felt on fire, his head was pounding and blood was dripping down his right arm, making his grip on his wand slick.

He watched as Harry cast a few exploratory spells. Harry frowned. "He wasn't bluffing, Draco. There's a barrier around us. Nothing is getting through while he's alive."

"Or as long as I'm alive."

"What are you talking about?"

Draco leaned against a tree. "What if I made a trade? My life for yours."

"Not acceptable."

"Come on, Harry. Don't be stupid."

"And don't be suicidal." Harry was angry at him, eyes flashing. "You think I can't handle this? I defeated Voldemort. I can handle one, lone, Death Eater."

A bright blast of green shot toward them. He and Harry ducked. "Son of a bitch." Draco said as he glanced around. He was breathing quickly as an idea came to him. "Then listen. Let me draw him out. While he's focused on me attack. I'll guard you." He didn't think Harry was going to agree, so he didn't give him a chance, rushing out from behind the trees.

"Draco! Wait!"

Draco was ready for the spells this time, weaving a strong _protego _shield around him and Harry. The magic hit his shield, black and roiling, the Death Eater coming forward face contorted in concentration. A dark reddish orange spell came from his right and Harry came to stand next to him, wand pointing toward the Death Eater. The Death Eater changed his target, the stream of his magic colliding with Harry's, unable to get past Draco's shield. Harry used both hands, intensifying the blast and the Death Eater responded. The black stream thickened, pulsed, arced toward Harry. Most of the spell hit Draco's shield, but Harry's feet slid back, losing traction. Draco made a decision. He narrowed the shield around him, but strengthened it around Harry. It left him exposed, but Harry needed the protection more than he did. Harry had a chance of ending this once and for all.

The Death Eater let out a roar of anger. "You can't keep this up forever, Boy Who Lived!"

"And neither can you."

Draco shifted so he could better protect Harry. He didn't see the spell that hit him, but he felt it rebound off the shield. Draco dropped to one knee, weakened from the blow. By some miracle he kept the shield on Harry.

"Draco!" Harry almost dropped the attack.

"Don't!" Draco put up a hand. "Finish this Harry. Finish this, and let's go home."

"You can try!" The Death Eater laughed.

Harry spared Draco a glance. There was a cut on his eyebrow, his face was dirty and sweaty and he gave Draco a single nod before turning his attention back to the battle. Draco watched as Harry drew energy around him. Draco could even feel it and by the Death Eater's sudden silence, so could he. Draco didn't recognize the spell that Harry unleashed. The magic was strong, a blast of energy shot Draco's hair behind him, his clothes snapped and rippled. The magic coursed down the stream from Harry's wand, bright red. It consumed the black magic of the Death Eater, spreading red as it inched closer and closer to the Death Eater.

He wouldn't be able to stop it. Draco saw the moment the Death Eater realized it. Whatever spell Harry was using was stronger than the Death Eater's. With a sneer, the Death Eater made a fateful decision. Death was going to come, he could sense it. Right before Harry's spell hit him, the Death Eater swung his wand toward Draco.

The magic sliced through Draco's left side. He cried out, falling to the ground, holding his spell on Harry, determined to keep the shield up. In the distance he heard the Death Eater yell defiantly and then silence, a voice cut short. Draco watched as the Death Eater fell lifeless to the ground, Harry staring him down, breathing deeply. Draco sagged, dropping the spell.

So many things happened at once. Several men apparated into the clearing, wands drawn, shouting and yelling. Wands were pointed at Draco.

"Wait!" Harry was waving, trying to get someone's attention.

Several spells hit Draco at once. Unconsciousness grabbed him as he heard Harry's frantic voice. "Draco!"

Draco groaned as he tried to wake up. A sharp pain in his side made him gasp and he opened his eyes, blinking in confusion. He was in a small room surrounded on all sides with a dull grey stone. A mage light flickered in the corner and Draco tried to sit up. His side was on fire. Struggling he was able to use his right arm to support himself long enough get into a sitting position. He was in a corner of the room on top of a primitive cot a couple feet off the ground. From the smell, the mattress he had been laying on was made of damp straw covered in a thin blanket. Lightly he touched his side, wincing and trying not to cry out from the pain. His fingers came away bright red, drops of blood dripping on the stone floor. "Shit." He glanced around, trying to find something he could use to staunch the bleeding. There wasn't much to use. There was a thin blanket by his feet, a small water pump next to a loo on the opposite side of the room and that was about it. Frowning, Draco inspected his boots. He had socks...that might work for a while. Someone was bound to find him...wherever he was.

He tried to figure out how he got to this place, but could only remember Harry's voice calling his name and then everything going black. He figured this was a mistake, a temporary imprisonment. He just needed to step the bleeding long enough to get some real medical attention. Moving his leg was pure agony. Who knew you used your side to control your leg!? Biting his lip and working through the pain, Draco managed to get one shoe and sock off, then other. He was gasping and tears were in his eyes by the time he finished, but he was able to turn one sock inside out press it against the gash. It hurt like hell to touch it. His vision blacked out for a moment and he fell against the wall. Only the fact that it was a corner kept him from falling over. "Fuck!"

Hell, even talking hurt. Breathing hurt. It seemed every movement he made lanced his side with pain. He tried to stay still, concentrating until he focused enough to feel Harry's presence with him. Draco closed his eyes. Harry was far away, he could barely feel him, but there was a wash of relief through their bond. Harry knew he was awake at least. Draco pulled away. It took too much energy to reach for Harry, but it was reassuring to know he was alright and not in this stony place.

A few voices came through a door Draco was just now noticing. It was stone, like the walls. A small window with three iron bars was the only window Draco could see. He listened as a familiar voice issued orders from the hallway.

"Open the door."

"Yes, sir."

The stone scratched against the floor as it swung slowly open. A tall man came in, a man that Draco hated, a man with three ugly scars across his face that matched his ugly soul. Auror Cooke clapped sarcastically. "Well, well. If it isn't Draco Malfoy in trouble, again."

"You'll forgive me if I don't get up." Draco hissed out, both from dislike and pain.

"You've done it this time, haven't you?" Auror Cooke came and sat on the bed.

Draco was in too much pain to move over, but he glared. "What am I being accused of this time?"

Cooke tsked in a mock sadness. "Why, trying to kill Harry Potter, of course."

Draco's eyes widened. "That's not what happened."

"No? You, a known Death Eater, led Harry Potter to an ambush."

"No."

"And when your accomplice couldn't finish the job you turned your wand on Harry."

"No!" Draco coughed, and then gasped, trying to get out the words through the pain. "You're wrong. Ask Harry."

"Harry is confused right now. Many think he's been under an Imperius. He's actually defending you, willing to go to the Wizengamot to clear your name. Well, after he clears his name first. He did kill that Death Eater, after all."

"Good."

"But it can take a while, Draco." Cooke eyed Draco's side. "I'm not sure you have that long. Maybe we can make a deal."

"Fuck you. I'm not a kid anymore. No deals."

Cooke swung a punch at Draco's injured side before Draco could even react. He cried out, curling on his side. Only years of training kept him from weeping tears, but he was sobbing silently. Cooke grabbed his hair and pulled his head back. "I don't think you appreciate my offer, Draco, so I'll make it only once more. This time, listen before you jump to conclusions. Do you agree?"

Draco had no choice. He couldn't fight the Auror. Hell, he couldn't even defend himself. All his strength had abandoned him with that one hit. He nodded silently.

"That's better." Cooke dropped his head. Draco didn't move, but watched him warily from his curled up position. "It's simple really. You accept responsibility for the Death Eater's attack and you spend the rest of your life here."

"And Harry?"

"Harry goes home. You, after all, were the reason the Death Eater was there to begin with. His death is on your conscious."

Draco was shaking his head. "I don't get it. Why me? Just," he gasped, holding his hand to his side, "why can't you leave me alone?"

Cooke stood, eyes narrowed. "You're a blood traitor, Malfoy. Like your father and mother. Only, _you, _I can get to." Draco watched in quiet horror as Cooke rolled up his sleeve to expose the Dark Mark. Like the dead Death Eater, this mark was still very visible, not faded like Draco's.

"Fuck." Draco said through gritted teeth.

Cooke grinned. "Really, it's an easy bargain to make, don't you think? A brother for a lover."

"What?"

"Basilus thought he could handle you, so I let him try. But he failed. Now, it's up to me to honor our vows." He stroked the Dark Mark almost lovingly. "I'm giving you a chance to protect Harry, Draco. Isn't that worth it?"

Draco struggled back into a sitting position, leaning heavily to the left. He didn't say anything. What was there to say?

Cooke nodded, reading Draco's face. "All you have to do is stay quiet. It's an easy deal. I'll say you confessed again. After all, you trust me, right? You stay quiet, and Harry remains unharmed." Draco didn't say yes or no, but he didn't argue. Cooke smiled, and headed to the door, knocking three times on the stone. "Don't worry, Draco. I know the spell that hit you. You won't have to stay quiet for long."

Draco watched as the door opened and Cooke left. He heard him giving instructions from the other side. "Don't open this. And don't give him medical attention. I've examined him. He only has minor cuts and bruises."

"Yessir."

Draco bit his lip as he worked his body into the corner. His whole body hurt. Each movement was accompanied by searing pain that shot up and down from his wound. He pulled the sock away, banging his head against the stone. It was already soaking wet, blood dripped to the mattress. Draco tossed it away, the smell of blood nauseating. Of course, the movement made him cry out. "Shit." He said to himself. "Damned if I do, damned it I don't." He touched the gash again, gritting through the pain as he felt the size. It went from the front of his ribs to the back, slender at the tips and widest in the middle. Draco pulled his hand back and watched as the blood dripped off his fingers, bright crimson red. It was strange to see your life literally slipping through your fingers. Each drop brought Draco closer to an inevitable end. And...he was at peace with that. If taking his life could guarantee Harry's safety, it was actually an easy decision. That thought hurt though. Harry would be mad at him and then what? Hopefully he'd understand. He took a deep breath and reached for the thin blanket, covering his shoulders and chest. It was cold and he was shivering, teeth rattling. He wanted Harry and his warm hands and at the same time he needed to be strong. This was for Harry. He could go through with this for Harry. But..He sobbed. Maybe it was wrong, maybe it was selfish, but he searched for his connection to Harry, needed to feel his presence, his love. The bond flared to life and Harry's emotions washed over him: love, concern, determination. Draco soaked it up. He was careful not to let any emotion through but his own love, sighing as he received it back. Harry's love was warm and soothing and Draco let it wrap around him like a cocoon. He began to fall asleep, or to lose consciousness, he really didn't know. He just held on to the image of Harry in his mind.


	23. Chapter 23: The Forest of Souls

**The Forest of Souls**

Harry slammed the door to Hermione's office shut, startling both Ron and Hermione. "Damned Wizengamot. Fucking _idiots._"

"_Harry!" _Hermione exclaimed. Who knew what shocked her more: his language, or his hatred of their governing body.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, but they are. Can't they just take my word for it? Me? Harry Potter." There wasn't enough room to pace in the small office so Harry settled for sitting on one of Hermione's visiting chairs.

Hermione sat at her chair. "It's just a day, Harry. One day and this whole thing will be taken care of."

"Though," Ron said taking the last chair, "it is a bit strange that he's being forced under house arrest."

"It's _our_ house, Ron." Hermione said with a roll of her eyes.

Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose and then his temple. "Where did you say they had Draco?"

"Brindlewood," Hermione flipped through a few pages of a report. "Ironically underneath Scotland Yard."

Harry was getting random bursts of emotions and feelings from Draco, and none of them good. He was in pain, that much was clear to Harry, and Draco was doing his best to keep that from him. Sometimes Harry would get a jolt of agony through their connection followed by nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was like a switch turned off their connection. Those moments left Harry holding his breath, searching and reaching deep within until once again he felt Draco responding to him. He was weak and cold, and in pain, and Harry couldn't get to him. "I need you to go see him, Hermione."

"Harry, no. It could jeopardize your case."

"I don't care. Something's wrong. I can feel it. If you wont go, I _will_."

Ron put a hand on his arm. "You can't, mate. They'd never listen to you if you go."

"Then please, Hermione."

Hermione bit her lip. "Alright. But you're going home with Ron, right now. I'll go check on Draco and meet you there."

Harry got up and kissed her on the cheek. "Thank you."

Hermione didn't like prisons, even when they weren't being guarded by Dementors. Bridlewood was a new facility designed to hold wizards for trial or for lesson known crimes. Azkaban was pretty crowded after the Second Wizarding War. She was escorted down stone stairs, a goblin of all creatures, giving her a tour. Once several floor down the goblin introduced to her a large wizard, who demanded her wand.

"You get it back on the way out. No wands allowed here." Hermione gave in, watching as her wand was locked in a stone chest. "This way." Hermione followed. The large man frowned. "Not supposed to have visitors. Sure this ok?"

Hermione flashed a paper with the Ministry of Magic seal on it, something she had taken from work. "It's official business."

The wizard shrugged and banged on a stone door, peering through the bars. "Malfoy. Have visitor."

There was a long pause. "No thank you." Came his response from the other side of the door. He sounded a little off to Hermione, but it was hard to determine if it was his voice or just an odd echo.

The wizard turned to her, wide eyed. "Now what?"

She frowned and stood on her tiptoes, peeking through the window. "Draco, it's me. Hermione." Draco was in bed, leaning against a corner, a thin blanket covering his body.

"'Mione?" He voice sounded odd. "Come in."

The wizard unlocked the door and opened it for Hermione. The room was cold and stuffy, a strong smell of iron hung in the air. Draco was very pale, beads of sweat lined his brow. He followed her every movement with his eyes, but didn't bother standing. "How's Harry?"

"Good." Of course his first concern would be Harry. It said a lot about him. "Worried about you. Are you doing alright?"

She thought she saw him hesitate, but then it was gone, hidden behind a blank expression. "I'll be fine. What's going on out there?"

"It's a mess. Harry admitted to killing the Death Eater."

"Yessss." Draco took a shuddering breath. "He was trying to kill us."

"I know." Hermione looked around for a place to sit, but there wasn't any. She leaned against the cold stone wall. "Harry has to prove you haven't spelled him. Once he does that he can testify in your defense."

"Me?"

"Yeah. Auror Cooke has everyone believing you planned this." Hermione watched Draco's face closely. He avoided her eyes, staring at his bare feet, but said nothing. "Of course, _we _don't believe him."

Clear silver eyes met her own. There was much being said in those iris, but Hermione wasn't fluent in Draco. She didn't have Harry there to translate for her. Draco grunted as he sat up. "Hermione, don't let Harry fall on his sword for me. I'm not worth it."

Hermione frowned. "Harry thinks you are." She came forward a step. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Draco laughed and then gasped, holding his side. "Just a bruised rib."

The guard banged on the door and opened it. "Time done!"

"Alright." Hermione turned to Draco. "Just hold on, Draco. In a day or two all of this will just be a bad memory." She began to leave when Draco called her back.

"Tell...tell Harry I love him, please."

"He loves you too." And then she was forced to leave, guard getting impatient.

Draco made sure Hermione was gone before inspecting his hand. The bleeding hadn't stopped, it didn't even feel like it was slowing down. He was sitting in a pool of his own blood. Each beat of his heart was ironically killing him, pumping more blood out of a wound that refused to stop spilling the bright red liquid down his side and to the mattress. '_In a day or two,' _Hermione said. Sure. Easy. Draco thought sarcastically. A spasm attacked his lungs and he coughed, hating how wet it sounded and breaking out into a sweat as each wracking motion pulled on the wound. He felt his heart flutter and skip a beat, which made him cough again. There wasn't much he could do. He curled up on his left side, his right hand holding a drenched sock against the cut. Draco didn't think it was helping, but it made him feel better knowing he was trying.

Eventually the mage light in the room dimmed. It wasn't pitch black, but Draco imagined the shadows reaching for him. Phantom fingers extended and flickering toward him. Draco watched fascinated. He was unsure how much time passed as he stared down at the stone floor. Once he thought he had stopped breathing. Taking one large breath had cost him. He cried out again, surprised by how weak and dry his own voice sounded. His body kept changing its mind. He'd be freezing, chills racing up and down his arms and legs, ice stinging him, teeth rattling, and then he'd be burning up. He'd throw the blanket off him, miserably in pain.

Delirium was next. In between moments of clarity, Draco knew he wasn't really in the dungeons at Hogwarts. He knew he wasn't walking the chilly icy halls, though the cold seeped down into his marrow. Then he'd be in the Room of Requirement. Fiendfyre was after him, flames licked his sides, his fingers, his feet. There was no escaping the fire now that it had started. The flames would consume him, turn him to dust. Only...someone had saved him. Who? Someone with gentle green eyes and loving hands.._Harry..._Draco blinked the visions away. Stone. Darkness. Prison. He remembered now. Damn, he was starting to struggle breathing. _Harry_. His thoughts went back to Harry. His body was warm now, Draco couldn't even feel the pain. It was like Harry holding him, caressing him.

Draco closed his eyes and focused on the special place above his heart, Harry's place, and followed it until stone walls gave way to an image of tall trees. A forest, a wood. It seemed familiar to Draco, though as he looked around he couldn't remember why. A bright, warm light shone from the horizon, near the ground, not in the star speckled sky. Draco let the rays fall on his face. The light was pure peace and Draco found himself taking a step forward. A strange tug pulled from his heart and Draco leaned into a tree, holding it for stability. No, he...he wasn't supposed to go there. Not without...not without someone...Who? But the light was warm and inviting, calling to him. _No. _He was waiting...waiting for...He tried to remember and got flashes of green eyes and passionate kisses and loving hands. _Harry. He was waiting for Harry..._But...one step more couldn't hurt, right?

"_Draco!" _Harry jumped up, running forward blindly. He hit a tree (a wall?) spinning to the left only to hit another tree (a wall?). Dammit, but every time he tried to move forward an obstacle blocked his way. There wasn't time for that. Draco needed him, now. Something was wrong. Draco was going further and further away from him, deeper in the forest. He had to reach him.

_Harry!_

Someone was calling him, but it was far away. And it wasn't Draco. Draco was the only one that mattered.

_Harry, stop!_

Why couldn't he move? He had to go. Didn't anyone understand? He _had _to go.

_Merlin, look at his eyes, Hermione. It's like he can't see us._

Hermione...that sounded familiar, but she wasn't important. Only Draco was important. He had to find Draco. She would understand. She had to.

_Harry...I'm sorry…_

_**SLAP!**_

Harry blinked. The forest faded slightly away, replaced by a room. Ron and Hermione were there, watching him with concern in their eyes. Harry looked past them, back into the forest. That was where he needed to go.

_**SLAP!**_

Harry recoiled, holding his cheek. He lost the tenuous hold on the forest image, watched it fade from view until there was only him in a room. Ron and Hermione's guest room. He clutched at his chest where a growing emptiness was threatening to consume him and swayed, losing his balance.

"Harry!" Hermione was shaking him, her brown eyes wide with fear and concern.

"Draco." He managed to get out. "Something's wrong." Harry tried to move past Hermione, but Ron stopped him. "Let me go. I have to get to him."

"You can't, Harry." Ron kept a strong hold on Harry's upper arm. "You're due in front of the Wizengamot in ten minutes."

"I don't care."

Hermione tried to keep Harry's attention, eyes focused on her. "Harry, you need to relax. You probably had a bad dream. I just saw Draco last night. He was fine."

Harry wanted to cry out in frustration. He knew Ron and Hermione were just trying to help him. They were just looking out for what they thought was his best interest. But _Draco _was his best interest. Every fiber in Harry's being knew Draco was in danger. Their connection, their bond, it was weakening. Harry couldn't feel Draco anymore and that terrified him. Harry shook his head. "It's not a dream. You don't understand. I...should feel him, here." He pointed to his chest hoping he was making any sense. "It's...a connection. He should be there, but nothing. Please. I'm not crazy."

Hermione and Ron shared a quick look. "Like a bond, Harry?"

"Yes!"

There was another quick look, an exchange of thoughts that Harry didn't understand and didn't care to understand. It was all secondary. His primary concern was Draco. Time was ticking: tick tock tick tock, like the clock that Draco hated so much. Hermione finally nodded. "Harry, you have to go to the Ministry." Before he could argue she interrupted him. "I'll go check on Draco. Ron, once the trial has started come join me.

Harry didn't like it. The Ministry was away from Draco, the wrong way. However, a rational part of his brain knew he had to finish the trial. Only then could Draco be found innocent and freed. Harry grabbed Hermione's hand. "Please hurry Hermione!"

Getting down to the prison cells was more difficult this time. Security was higher; more questions, more guards. Hermione slightly lied in order to be led down to Draco's level. She said Draco was an important witness in a case involving Harry Potter. Usually just mentioning Harry's name was enough to be ushered down a level, but the last guard was being obstinate.

"Order are orders. I'm not allowed anyone in to see the Death Eater."

Hermione would have hexed him if she still had her wand. "Give me ten minutes. His testimony could help Harry Potter."

The guard wavered. "The Auror said no one…"

The Auror? That was news to Hermione. The guard didn't seem as sure as before, so she continued to push. "Five minutes. Let me have five minutes. For Harry Potter."

"Fine." The guard relented with a groan. "Three minutes." He unlocked the door and pushed the stone door in.

Hermione smiled at him as she entered the cell "Thank you." The cell was cold, chilly, and very still. Draco was lying on his side, face obscured by a ratted blanket. He made no sign that he knew she was there. "Draco?" She waited. Curious she moved closer to the corner mattress. She hadn't been noticing the floor. When her foot stepped down it made a wet squishy sound. She lifted her foot...It was red and sticky She touched it with her fingers. Horror crept down her neck as she realized it was blood. "Draco?" She tried again. Nothing. She moved closer, hand shaking as she reached out to touch a shoulder. "Draco?" When he didn't answer Hermione pushed him gently to his back, gasping.

Draco was deathly white, his eyes were shut, with no movement. His lips were slightly tinged blue. She thought him dead until she saw one shuddering intake and outtake of breath. "Oh my god. Draco! Guard! This man needs help! Get a healer!"

The large guard stuck his head in the room. "Auror said he'd be fine. He's just faking."

"He is _not_!" Hermione checked his pulse on his neck. He was freezing, heartbeat fluttering erratically. "Get a healer!"

"No one here so early."

"A nurse then."

The guard shrugged.

"You can't just stand there and do nothing! Where is my wand?" Hermione grabbed the blanket and threw it over Draco's chest and arms, frowning as she finally saw where all the blood was coming from. A gash, nearly the length of her forearm, sliced through Draco's side. His shirt was in torn in two, the skin exposed. The edges of the wound were discolored, nearly black. Streaks of white and red crawled up and down Draco's side. Most alarming, Hermione could see bone. Blood was dripping down from the cut, following Draco's curves until it began seeping into the mattress. "We...we have to stop the the bleeding. Look, you idiot. He's not faking."

The guard slowly came in, eyes widened as he saw what she saw. "No, no one is here."

"Then get my wand! I'll heal him." The guard turned and ran, quicker than Hermione would have thought for such a large man. She returned her attention to Draco. The wound needed to be staunched; he had lost too much blood already. Hermione looked around; there wasn't anything in the room except the thin blanket. Then that would have to do. She ripped the blanket into strips, layering them and pressing them onto Draco's side. It must have hurt. He reacted badly. His mouth opened in a wordless scream, and for a moment he stopped breathing. Hermione was already scared, but when his chest stopped moving she nearly started screaming for any help she could get, but then he gasped in a breath. His whole body tensed up, he groaned once and then his body went limp.

She could hear the guard's footsteps coming near, followed by another pair. Ron, she hoped. If Harry saw Draco like this, there was no telling what he would do. She glanced up as a figure came into the cell. Red hair; Ron, safe. He handed her a wand, eyes fixed on Draco. "My God, Hermione. Is he still alive?"

"Barely. I...I don't know what to use."

"Anything, and hurry." Ron stepped closer, wincing as his shoe squelched on the blood. "Harry will be here soon. They cleared him."

Hermione's first spell did nothing. Draco didn't even react to it. The wound was still open and still bleeding. The strips of the blanket were already dark red. She tried a second spell, but stopped when Draco's body went ramrod straight. She was about to try for a third time when she heard footsteps coming down the stone hall. "If that's Harry, stall him." Ron hurried to the door, blocking entry. Hermione tried to concentrate, but she heard Harry's voice.

"Move, Ron."

"Harry, just wait."

"I'll break your damn nose again if you don't get out of my way."

Ron had his arms out, keeping Harry from coming in. He glanced over his shoulder to Hermione.

"Let him in." Hermione said reluctantly. What was going to happen now was going to happen. She didn't see anyway Draco was going to survive this.

Ron stepped out of the way and Harry quickly entered the room, slowing to a near stop as he clearly saw Draco. Harry's face registered shock, horror, pain.

Harry rushed to Hermione's side, hands hovering over Draco's body, almost afraid to touch him. "Draco?" Draco's brow furrowed briefly. Hermione could tell Draco was struggling to breathe. Harry touched Draco's face, gently, delicately, intimately. "Draco?"

"Harry, I can't get the blood to stop." Green eyes looked up at her, but blankly, like she was speaking a different language. "Do you understand?" He looked away, shaking his head. "He's going to die."

Harry paled. "Help him."

Hermione bit her lip. What could she do? She wasn't a healer. She didn't have the necessary skills to heal a wound like this. And with no healer on duty...Well, if the healer wouldn't come to them, she'd have to get Draco to the healer. "Hang on, I have an idea." She touched Draco's arm and tried apparating them to St. Mungo's. Her spell didn't work. Harry was watching her, eyes moving back and forth between her and Draco. "I can't apparate in here."

Ron snapped his fingers. "What if we took him outside?"

"I'm afraid to move him."

Ron paced back and forth. His eyes brightened. "There has to be a loophole, for emergencies." He left the room hollering for the guard. Hermione hoped he had luck. If not...

Harry kept his eyes on Draco, hands resting on his chest, watching him. Hermione was frightened by the look on Harry's face, utter concentration and desolation. If Draco died and they were bonded….She had done some research on her own. Bonded pairs rarely out lived the death of the other. In a pure blooded case, the pure blood _never _outlived the death of their bond. The connection pulled both to the next world. Harry had a chance though, a slim chance. Survivors spoke of a compulsion, a pull. Fighting it was the only way Harry was going to make it through this.

Hermione gently touched Harry's shoulder. Draco was hardly breathing, his hands occasionally tightening into fists and then relaxing. The blue of his lips had spread to his chin, his cheeks. "Harry...I don't think he's going to make it."

Harry shook his head. "Shut up, Hermione." Tears were falling from his eyes, cascading in large drops onto Draco's chest. He dropped his head until it rested near Draco's neck. He was whispering to him, but Hermione couldn't make out the words.

"Harry, listen. If...when he goes, your bond is going to call you to him. You _can't _go."

He sniffed, using the back of his hand to wipe away some tears. "What is it? This _bond_? I think Draco knows, but he never told me."

That took Hermione back. Why would Draco keep that to himself? From what she read being bonded was special, precious. She frowned. "You're his soulmate, Harry."

A strange look came over Harry's face, a peace, a calm. He stared at Draco, tears in his eyes again. "You _prat_. You knew too." He sniffed, pressing his face against Draco's chest. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Draco took a long, deep breath. Each inch of expanding lung looked like a fight, stopping and starting. Harry sat up, watchful, hopeful. Then the air left Draco's lungs in one soft swoosh. Both Hermione and Harry waited for the next breath. And they waited. And waited. A new stillness clung to him, his head went limp, each finger slowly lost tension.

"Draco?" Harry's voice was a whisper. He held Draco's face in his hands. "Draco, open your eyes."

Tears were filling in Hermione's eyes. "Harry…" She tried to touch his shoulder, but he shrugged her hand off.

"No." He crawled on the mattress, legs on either side of Draco's body. "You're too stubborn for this, Draco. Do you hear me? Come back."

"Harry, stop. He's gone."

"No!" Harry touched his forehead to Draco's. "I can still feel him." A feverish gleam glanced back at Hermione in Harry's green eyes. "I can bring him back."

Fear gripped Hermione. "Harry, no. You can't. You'll die."

"It wouldn't be the first time." He wasn't even seeing her anymore. The green forest was in his eyes. "He's there, somewhere, Hermione." Harry held onto Draco's shirt. "I can reach him."

"Harry!"

Hermione's voice was echoing in Harry's ears as he cast himself down through his bond with Draco. The prison walls vanished and Harry found himself in the spirit world. He was in their forest. It was dark, the sky full of stars. A part of him knew he was still in the prison; he could still vaguely feel his body resting on Draco's. _Draco_...Harry felt his bond thrum to life, pulling him deeper into the forest. He followed without a second thought. The pull was strong. Harry felt like he was flying. The forest flashed past him, the meadow, the birch wood. His feet weren't even touching the ground. A bright light shone through the birch trees making them look like skinny skeletons with strange arms reaching for the sky. The light worried Harry. Instinctively he knew he didn't want to get too close. Even though he was speeding forward he managed to wrap his arms around one of the last birch trees, stopping his progress.

Harry glanced around, blinking through the light. A dark shape was silhouetted against the glare maybe ten feet away, taking slow steps nearer to the blinding light. Harry leaned forward, afraid to let go of the trunk. "Draco!" His voice echoed around him. Draco stopped, turning around slowly. "Draco, come back!"

Draco frowned, confused. "Harry?"

"Yes!"

"Harry, what are you doing here?"

Harry hooked one arm around the tree and reached out to him with his other hand. "I'm here for you, idiot! Come back."

Draco paused and looked behind him toward the light and then back to Harry, taking a step toward him. He recoiled, arms holding his chest. "It hurts."

"I know. But Draco, you have to come with me. It won't hurt forever."

"It won't hurt at all if I go there," he motioned toward the light.

"No! You can't do that." Harry took a deep breath and stepped toward Draco. Somewhere he felt a great pain in his chest. It dropped him to his knees briefly, but he managed to get up. Draco watched him with concern. Far away he heard a feminine voice yelling his name. "You can't go there, Draco. _Please_." Indecision was clear on Draco's face giving Harry hope. He hadn't turned away yet; he was still watching Harry. A moment of inspiration came to him. "You once told me you'd follow me anywhere. Even to hell and back. Draco, this, this is about as close as I'd like to come." Harry opened his hand to Draco again. "I don't want to lose you!"

Draco stepped closer. "I don't want to lose _you_." Another step, then another. He was closer now to Harry than to that void of light. Harry heard a far away voice shouting at him to keep going, that whatever he was doing was working. Draco stalled, eyes shutting in pain. "I'm not strong enough Harry." He turned away.

"Draco!" Harry made the name sound like a command and it worked; Draco faced him again, but kept his eyes down. "If you need strength, then use mine. Take my hand." Harry was feeling queasy, uneasy, strength fading fast. Of course Draco would be as difficult here as in the real world. And he wanted him back. Harry wasn't sure he could pull himself out alone now. If Draco left him, he'd follow. He'd have to. Living without Draco wouldn't be much of a life now that Harry had experienced it. That gave him an idea. One last idea. "Draco, do you love me?"

Silver eyes snapped up to meet his. "Yes."

"Enough to die for me?"

"_Yes_." He wasn't lying. Harry could hear the conviction in his voice.

"Enough to live for me?" Harry reached for him again, taking one more painful step closer. It made him want to faint or fall down, but he fought against it.

Draco was watching him, silver eyes unblinking, chest rising and falling. Harry for once had no idea what he was thinking or feeling as he stood there, bare feet almost hidden by the tall grass. Harry was determined to wait, even though he felt his real body struggling. He kept his hand out. Draco saw it. He took a deep breath and reached for Harry's hand, cool fingers safely in Harry's grasp.


	24. Chapter 24: Hospital Part I

**Hospital Part I**

Hermione had never been so glad to be at St. Mungo's. Healers in lime green robes were already running down the hall, Ron and Luna leading the way. Ron had managed to get the emergency spell from the guard, but only after Hermione had frantically started screaming. At first, Harry's plan had seemed to work. Draco had started breathing again, laboriously and sporadically, but still alive. Then Harry had gone limp, collapsing on Draco's body, spasming. Hermione was shouting for help when Harry stopped breathing. His face paled, lips turning a matching blue to Draco's. She had screamed at Harry, even though she didn't know if he could hear her. The guard and Ron ran in just as Harry began to breathe again. Neither Harry nor Draco had reopened their eyes, but at least they had been breathing again. The guard had handed over the spell, as shaken as Hermione. Hermione looked over the spell and sent Ron first to give the Hospital some warning, and then Hermione had put her hand over Harry and Draco's and apparated all three to St. Mungo's.

Now, Hermione was still holding Harry and Draco's hands. Luna was the first to reach them, her Healer's hat slightly askew. "You were right, Luna" Hermione said standing, words coming out in a rush. "They _are_ bonded. And Draco has a wound like I've never seen." Harry continue to lie on Draco; the tiled floor already had a small pool of blood under their bodies.

Luna had her wand out, flicking and swishing, eyes focused. When the other Healer's reached them she called out an order. "Don't separate them! They're soul bonds." The healers nodded silently, but Hermione noticed eyes widening as they saw exactly _who _they were healing. Hermione watched as spells were cast over Harry and Draco and they floated off the floor. She kept her eyes on them until the healers took them behind doors. Luna touched her shoulder. "Don't worry." And then she was gone, running after the healers.

Hermione wasn't sure when she had started to cry. Her tears wet her cheeks and before she knew it she was sobbing into Ron's arms.

He was holding her tightly. "It'll be ok, 'Mione. They'll make it."

But he didn't know that, and Hermione knew that he didn't know. She pressed her face against his chest and continued to sob.

Consciousness crept back on Draco slowly like a vine climbing a tree. Each tendril of thought reached out, grasping for purchase on his reality. With some effort he managed to open his eyes. He was lying in a bed in a dimly lit room, no windows, but also not stone walls that he vaguely remembered. The low light and lack of windows made it hard to tell the time. Bright floral paintings decorated the walls, like some effort was made to make this a cheerful place. Draco didn't _feel_ cheerful. The more awake he became the more aware he was that his whole body ached. Flashes of memory came back to him. The Death Eater, his injury, Harry. _Harry!_ A slight rustle caught his attention and he turned his head to the left. Harry was sitting in a large oversized chair, arms crossed on the bed, head on arms. He was stirring. With his waking, Harry's emotions and thoughts flowed into Draco. Concern, worry, fear, love, hope. Harry was always so complicated.

Harry sat up, rubbing his eyes. He looked tired, pale and drained. For the first time ever he had stubble on his face; a sign he hadn't shaved in days, but the look on his face when he saw Draco watching him was heaven. His green eyes lit up and he gently took Draco's outstretched arm, holding his hand, kissing his fingers, his palm, before putting the hand on his cheek. "Hey."

"Hey."

"Had us worried for a while." Harry's voice was thick with emotion.

"Sorry." And Draco really was. He still felt a little like this was his whole fault. That was a momentary thought. The next thought was this overwhelming desire to hold Harry, touch him, have his arms around him, his support.

Harry smiled gently. "Can you move over?" It took more effort than Draco was expecting; he was extremely weak and still very sore in his side, but it was worth it. He moved to the right, and once there was some space Harry gently crawled into bed, arms open. "Come here."

Draco moved on his side with a soft grunt of discomfort, shaking his head to Harry's worried expression. Instead, he lay his head on Harry's chest, throwing his right arm across him, holding him closely. Two arms encircled him, as did feelings of love and caring. Draco closed his eyes, relaxing to the rhythm of Harry's breathing and his heartbeat. More memories were coming back to him in bits and flashes. The strongest was of Harry standing with his hand outstretched, calling him away from an inviting light. Draco had wanted to go. There had been peace and quiet and serenity in that light's embrace; a promise that nothing would ever hurt again. Harry had called him back. A feat that Draco greatly appreciated now. Had he gone into that light he would have been gone forever. He clutched at Harry's shirt. "You saved my life again, didn't you?"

Harry's chest expanded and he exhaled deeply as he tightened his hold. "You didn't leave me much choice, Love." He paused, and Draco could feel him warring with the next thought before he finally just voiced it. "And soulbonds, Draco? You should have told me."

It was interesting to hear the accusation in Harry's voice, while simultaneously receiving his love. Draco supposed it was possible to love someone even when you were irritated at them. "Well, you know now." He glanced up toward Harry's face. "And you're still here."

"Of course I am. Now who's being an idiot."

Draco smiled and then yawned. Though he just woke up he was tired and exhausted, pain from the wound still echoing throughout his body. "I have a lot of questions, Harry."

"Yeah, I bet."

"But I'm tired."

There was a pause and Draco could almost feel a probing through his bond. "Then go back to sleep."

"You'll be here when I wake up?"

Harry gently caressed Draco's face. "Yes, of course."

Harry made a move to get out of the bed, but this alarmed Draco. He held on to Harry afraid to his core to let him leave. "No, don't go."

Harry was thinking, looking toward the door before he shrugged. "Alright. Hang on, let me get my shoes off."

Draco moved tenderly over and watched as Harry kicked off his shoes and took off a light sweater he'd been wearing. His clothes were very wrinkled, his hair messier than normal. Signs that he'd been here for a while without a break. That made Draco feel guilty and he almost reconsidered his request.

Harry was back in the bed, guiding Draco back to him with utmost care. "I _have _been here a while," he answered as if Draco had spoken out loud. "And it's too late to take it back now." Draco was nestled in Harry's arms, when he spoke again. "And I'm tired too. You're exhausting, you know that?"

"I _might _have been told that once or twice."

Harry chuckled. "Go to sleep Draco. We'll talk in the morning. We're safe here."

Draco closed his eyes. He tried to fall back asleep, but a few more thoughts were bouncing around in his head. "Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

Arms tightened around him and then relaxed. "You're welcome."

A few more minutes of silence passed. "And Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

"I know. I love you too. Now go to sleep."

And so Draco did.

The next time Draco woke there were quiet voices talking in the room. Almost immediately he felt warmth flow into him from Harry and then a wordless command that Draco _felt _more than physically heard: _pretend you're still asleep._ Draco focused on keeping his breathing even and listened to the conversation.

"You look better, Harry. Were you able to get some rest?" That sounded like Luna's breathy voice.

"Yeah. With him out of danger I was actually able to sleep."

"Good. I'll have some food brought in."

"No thanks, Luna. Draco's...particular about what he eats. Hermione was here earlier, she's bringing us something." Draco wanted to be offended by that comment, but it was hard when he knew how true it was. He felt a ripple of amusement from Harry.

"Alright. I'll check on you guys later."

"Thanks, Luna. For everything."

Draco heard a door open and shut. He kept his eyes closed until he felt the bed slightly dip.

"You can wake up now." Draco opened his eyes, still lying on his side. Harry wasn't actually sitting on the bed, he was kneeling on the floor, arms crossed on the mattress eye level to Draco. Harry smiled. "You look much better."

"Thank you?"

Harry brushed some blond strands out of his face. "You had looked like Death again, so yeah, you're welcome.

Draco winced. "I still don't feel the greatest. What the hell did that bastard hit me with?"

Shrugging, Harry lightly touched Draco's face, cheek, lips with his thumb. "Luna named it _Mortale Vulnere. _Mortal Wound." He made quotation marks. "It's taken a while to bring you back around."

Draco wondered if he wanted to ask the next question. Did he really want to know how long a while was? What the hell, why not. It didn't matter now. "How long, exactly?"

"About nine days. Luna says it may take a couple months before you're completely healed." He made a face. "It was...close, more than once." With the back of his hand he stroked Draco's cheek again.

Draco tried to remember more. He briefly remembered stone walls and pain and blood. That was about it. Something was tugging at his brain though, like he was forgetting something important. He frowned, running his brain backward. He remembered stone, he remembered pain, he remembered Hermione...He tried again.

"What are you trying to remember?" Harry asked softly.

That was another issue. Since he woke up Harry was always a beat ahead of him, able to read his thoughts, answering questions before he even asked them. It was both irritating and convenient.

Harry laughed. "Do you want to know why?"

"By all means," Draco said more grumpily than he intended. He turned apologetic. He got a surge of acceptance from Harry.

"It's like you're wide open, no filters." He tapped the spot above his heart where Draco also felt Harry's presence. "Ever since I pulled you back you've been on full blast. It's a little exhausting, to tell you the truth, but also a life saver. Literally." So it was Draco's own fault. He'd been so weak he hadn't been actively shielding like he normally did. He concentrated and _narrowed _the bond, almost visualizing a conduit closing. He saw Harry relax and take a deep breath. "Thank you. I love you, and I love that we're bonded, but that was like listening to music blasting in your ears nonstop."

"I'd imagine. Here, help me up. I'm sick of lying down."

Harry hesitated as he stood. "Luna said you should stay in bed."

"Don't care." Draco grunted as he struggled to sit up and swing his feet to the side of the bed. He was in some awful hospital gown of pea green. It made him want to gag. "Please tell me I have something to change into."

Despite his reluctance, Harry was helping Draco stand, keeping supportive hands on his arms. "Your wardrobe wasn't the highest on my priority list. I'll go home and get you something in a bit if it's really bothering you."

"It's really bothering me." Draco gritted his teeth as he managed to take one small step and then another.

"Draco, don't over do it. Come back to bed."

"No. I just want to stand for a moment." Sighing, Harry ducked under one of Draco's arms, offering him more support. "I feel like a fucking invalid."

"Better a temporary invalid than a permanent corpse." Harry glanced down at Draco's shaky legs. "That's enough." Draco wished he could argue, but the truth was just standing with Harry's help was making him sweat with the effort. He didn't want to lie back down, but he also lacked the strength to keep standing. Harry was turning him around, "Do you want to sit for a while instead?" Draco nodded, concentrating on his footing too much to answer. Harry rolled his eyes affectionately and guided him to the large chair that Harry had been sitting in earlier. Draco fell more than sat down and Harry shook his head. "Told you."

Draco waved his words away. Luckily a knock at the door saved him from answering. Harry opened the door. The chair was facing the wrong direction; Draco had to wait until he heard a woman's voice before he knew it was Hermione. He found himself smiling.

"I brought food," she whispered.

"He's awake," came Harry's reply. "Want some company Draco? I can go home and get some clothes for you."

"Then yes." Harry and Hermione had been walking around as they spoke. Hermione bent down and hugged him, kissing both cheeks. "Anything but these ghastly things."

"Alright, peacock." Harry said good naturedly as he handed him a plastic bowl. "Eat something, please." He looked at Hermione who sat awkwardly on the bed. "I won't be gone long. Will you stay until I get back?"

"Sure." She answered sweetly. "Take your time, Harry."

For some reason that same fear came over Draco again, that fear of separation. Anxiety. He met Harry's eyes, breathing deeply when he saw the understanding there. "Just long enough for a shower and to grab some clothes, ok?" He came to Draco and kissed his cheek, hugging him awkwardly from the angle. Draco nodded, not quite trusting his voice, but trusting Harry. He looked Draco in the eye. They were close, noses almost touching. Harry kissed his lips for just a second. "I'll be back soon." Draco wasn't imagining the reluctance in Harry's posture as he backed away. It was difficult for him to go too. He kissed Hermione's cheek. "Thanks, 'Mione." Biting his lip and with one more glance at Draco, he left the room.

"Well," Hermione said scooting further on the bed. "I brought you some cantaloupe," she pointed to the bowl, "and some honeydew, I think. Harry said you don't eat much meat anymore."

There was an implied question there, but Draco just shrugged and opened the bowl. He hadn't known he was hungry until he saw the fruit. His stomach rumbled. "Thanks, Hermione. You want some?" She shook her head. The fruit tasted amazing and Draco savored each bite. He wasn't able to eat it all, but he at least put a small dent in the pile. The bed was looking awfully tempting now. And far away. It figured he'd want to go to bed now, when Harry wasn't there to help him. But noooo, he had to be stubborn. Now he was stuck in this chair until Harry got back and all he wanted to do was to get back into bed. His thoughts must have been clear on his face.

Hermione got up. "I can help you, if you want to go back to sleep."

He paused. Was it worth being obstinate just to save face? Hermione's face was open and genuine. No, no it wasn't. Not when there was help. "Please." He said simply. She wasn't as strong as Harry. Draco had to use more of his own strength, but together they managed to get him back into bed. He was breathing heavily by the time he fell against the pillows. "Damn and fuck it all to hell."

Hermione laughed as she scowled at him. "I can see where Harry is getting his bad language from."

Draco laughed as well, struggling to get into a comfortable spot. "Imagine. Me? A bad influence?" After a few more adjustments he stopped moving. "Shit. Sorry, Hermione, but I'm _tired_."

"Luna said you'd be weak for some months. Apparently nearly dying takes a lot of energy out of you." She bit her lip. "And you nearly died a few times. If it hadn't been for Harry we would have lost you." Hermione sat in the vacated chair, a shadow of concern on her face.

Draco was silent as he digested that information. Being told that he nearly died several times made him uncomfortable, though it was hard to explain why. Maybe it was because no one wanted to be confronted by their own mortality. Yet, Draco had been prepared to die. He hadn't _wanted _it, but he had been ready to lay down his life because it would protect Harry. Protect Harry from...he closed his eyes concentrating. Three scars and a crystal clear image of the Dark Mark...Auror Cooke. Draco's eyes shot wide open. "Hermione, Auror Cooke. Where is he?" He tried to get out of bed, arms shaking badly.

Hermione was at the bed in a second. "Calm down, Draco. I know about Cooke."

"You know?" He narrowed his eyes. "Know what, exactly?"

"That he was the one that told the guards to let you die at Brindlewood. The other Aurors are searching for him, to bring him in on charges of attempted murder."

That was relief and it did help him calm down, sagging against the pillows. "Good. That's not all, Hermione. He's a Death Eater."

"What?"

"He has the Dark Mark. He said the Death Eater that attacked me was his brother...Belarus, or something." Draco took a deep breath.

"An Auror? A Death Eater?" Hermione sounded shocked and scandalized.

Draco gave her a very pointed look. "It wouldn't be the first time."

"No...I just thought they'd all been screened." She sighed. "After all the work me, Harry and Ron have done there are still bad apples that manage to infect the Ministry. Will it ever be trustworthy?"

"Not by me." Hermione looked at him, disappointment in her eyes. "Twice in my life I've been blackmailed my Ministry officials. I've had my home ransacked, my wealth stripped...No, the Ministry is an evil." He took took breath. "Maybe a necessary evil, but I'm happier out of its grips."

There was an uneasy silence between them. That little speech drained Draco of the last of his energy reserves and he started slipping into slumber. Eventually, before he fell completely asleep, he heard Hermione respond. "Harry feels the same way." Draco was tired, too tired to reply, but he thought to himself with a bit of humor, _I knew there was a reason I loved him._


	25. Chapter 25: Hospital Part II

**Hospital Part II**

"Thanks, Hermione."

"Sure, Harry. If you need anything else, let me know."

"I will."

_Harry_. Draco opened his eyes as Harry came into view. He looked much better after a shower and a change of clothes. Carried in his left hand was his travel bag. He set it on the edge of the bed before sitting on the bed closer to Draco. Draco shimmied until he was sitting up, a genuine smile on his face. "Hi."

"Hi, yourself." Harry replied with his own grin. "Feeling better?"

Draco considered lying, but realized it served no real purpose. "About the same."

Harry leaned forward and touched Draco's hair. "You look bedraggled. Want to try a shower?" Hot water, clean clothes, Draco wanted that very much. His expression must have said it all. Harry laughed, "Ok. Hang on, I'll get the water going." Draco watched as Harry opened another door across the room. Draco hadn't even noticed that door, but realized it must be the bathroom. He heard the rush of water as the shower started and then Harry came back to him. He gestured for Draco to sit up and reached behind him, untying the ugly green robe. Harry bundled the gown up and threw it across the room. It left Draco naked, though hardly exposed. This was Harry after all. Harry frowned and gently touched Draco's right side. "You've lost some weight."

"Have I?" Draco tried to see, but he needed a mirror.

"All your ribs are exposed. Let me see your other side." Draco complied, turning slightly toward Harry. Draco winced as he felt tinder fingers on his wound. "Sorry." Harry kissed Draco's temple. "It'll leave a scar, but it's looking better." Harry put Draco's arm around his neck and hoisted him up.

It took some maneuvering and a lot of work, but eventually Draco was all clean and in different clothes. He was annoyed that Harry brought him pajamas at first, but after the shower he was so exhausted that pajamas were welcome. As long as it wasn't that green rag, he didn't really care. Harry had helped Draco back into bed and was lying with him, resting on his side, brushing his fingers through his damp hair as Draco had his eyes closed.

"Hermione told me about Cooke." Harry said after a while. "Is that what was bothering you?"

"Yes. Any word on him?"

"No, but he's bound to show up sooner or later."

Draco sighed, vexed. He was done worrying about what might happen _later_. Later would either come as it was expected or completely out of the blue. As long as he was holed up here there didn't seem much of a chance that a Death Eater with a grudge would be able to find him. It just sucked that he had another one after him. "What time is it?"

"A little before noon."

Now that Draco was feeling better he was starting to get antsy staring at walls again. "When can I get out of here?"

"I don't know." Harry rested his hand on Draco's collarbone. "Be patient." Draco gave him a sour look along with an eye roll. "I know. Not one of your better character traits, is it?" Draco sighed loudly as he lifted and dropped is head. "There's a sundeck, here, you know." Harry said, tempting. Draco opened one eye, feigning nonchalance. "With a garden, and benches. It's a really pretty day." Draco was smiling now.

With a little help from Luna (who had authority to apparate within St. Mungos) Draco was sunbathing in a lovely courtyard. There were pleasant little paths, green shrubs, cobblestone paths, a waterfall bubbling somewhere and wrought iron patio furniture scattered about. The warmth of the sun felt wonderful after being inside for so long. Harry was sitting next to him, their hands joined over a small table. It was peaceful and nice and better than being stuck indoors.

"Do you think you'll be fine on your own for a while?" Harry squeezed Draco's hand. Draco's first reaction was to say no. The idea of Harry being far from his side sent his anxiety through the roof. Harry sent a burst of reassurance through their bond. "It's a side effect," Harry said softly. "I was struggling to even use the bathroom in the same room without breaking out in a sweat. Luna thinks it's because our bond was wide open for so long. Or, that it grew stronger." He gave Draco an apologetic glance. "They're guessing a lot."

"I can't help it," Draco replied honestly. "I panic if I can't see you and then I feel like an idiot."

Harry laughed as he stood and walked around the chairs. He leaned down. "I won't be gone long. I just need to check in with _Seven Thirty One._ My employees would probably like to get paid."

Draco still wanted to argue. Harry stood and concentrated. Draco felt their bond open wider. Harry's emotions washed over him in large waves, love and caring and support. Draco drank it in, eyes closing to half slits. "That helps," he whispered. If Harry was going to physically leave him at least he'd have his emotions. Soft lips met his, two hands held his face and then Harry was kissing him. Draco sighed into the kiss, opening his mouth to fully receive Harry. It was like a balm on his soul, soothing him, caressing him from the inside. Something settled within him as Harry pulled away, still placing small kisses on his lips and cheeks. Draco smiled, "That helped a lot."

"It did, didn't it?" Harry was still bending down, hands touching Draco's chest. "So, I'm going for a while. If you need me," he brought one hand to his chest and kept the other on Draco's, "let me know. But I promise I won't be gone long."

That same panic flared up, but Draco was able to push it down. "Not long, ok?"

Harry stood. "Not long. I'll have Luna check on you in a few." Draco watched him for as long as possible until he rounded a corner. Instead of panicking, Draco continued to feel Harry's presence. It was soothing and let him enjoy the rest of the early afternoon in the sun.

Work took longer than Harry anticipated. The afternoon passed by and soon was early evening. Brian had called, checking on Draco. Their mobile phones didn't work well at St. Mungo's. Magic tended to interfere with electric devices. Needless to say, his voicemail box was quite full of messages. The most important being from Brian. While Draco was incapacitated Brian had managed to find them a new location for _Drake Black Designs. _He wanted to go over some ideas with Draco. Harry had called him back and agreed to bring him to St. Mungo's tomorrow.

Another important call had come from Ron. After uncovering Cooke's double identity Ron and Neville had gone back to Auror Headquarters and started their own investigation. Harry had shamelessly asked a favor of Shacklebolt to give Ron and Neville authority to hunt down Cook. Part of that was seeing how far Cooke's betrayal went. According to Ron, they'd found some interesting information and wanted to share it with Harry. It would be perfect. Brian could stay with Draco and Harry could talk to Ron and Neville.

Thinking of Draco made Harry long for him. Ever since bringing Draco back from the brink not once, but _several _times, Harry struggled being away from him for long. There was like an invisible magnet constantly pulling Harry back to Draco side. The sensation was fading a little now that Draco was awake and out of harm's way, but the urge to return made Harry want to finish his work quicker.

Harry was finishing signing the last paycheck when Eric stuck his head in the office, knocking simultaneously. "Hey, Harry. How's Drake?"

Harry had made up some story to excuse his absence so he said Draco was deathly ill with pneumonia. His crew had been more than kind. Eric had even stepped up as acting manager, an act that was greatly rewarded on his paycheck, which Harry handed to him with a grateful smile. "Better. Out of the woods at least. I'm hoping he'll be able to go home in the next couple days."

"That's good. Are you back then?"

Harry shook his head in the negative. "No, not yet. I just wanted to stop by and see if you guys needed anything."

Eric came all the way into the tiny office, sitting on a stool in the corner. "We're doing just fine. Suzanne has come a long way."

Oh yeah, the new sous chef. "Thank god. I was worried about her for a while. I'd hate to ask it, but can you continue as manager a while longer?"

"Sure," Eric waved away his concern. "Take your time."

"Thanks." Harry was got up to shake his hand, another thought coming to his mind. "What soup is ready?"

"Minestrone, I think. What me to grab you some?"

Harry smiled. Draco liked Minestrone. That would be a nice meal.

Draco was back in bed sleeping when Harry returned to St. Mungo's. He put the soup container down on the nightstand and moved to the other side of the bed, carefully joining Draco. Harry watched him sleep, grateful that he _was _just asleep and not in that place between the living and the dead. Keeping Draco alive had nearly killed Harry several times, the irony not lost onto him. It was lovely to see some color, well, relative color, coming back to Draco. He was such a beautiful shade of ivory and it was coming back more each day from the bone white color he had been. The dark circles under his eyes, Draco's tell of being unwell, were nearly gone. Even his hair was looking healthier, shinier, especially after the shower. He was still thin, maybe having lost close to ten pounds on an already slim frame, but Harry figured he'd gain that back eventually. All in all, Harry was just relieved that he was able to watch Draco, see him, and feel him again. Nine days was a long time to watch your love fight for their life and never know if they would win the battle. Nine days of clinging and holding on, not just to Draco, but to his own life. But Damn, it was worth it.

Harry wasn't sure when the tears started to fall. He wasn't even sure what he was crying for. Relief? Exhaustion? Happiness? It didn't matter. He just let the tears fall, large teardrops rolled down his cheek with each blink, and he blinked often, trying to keep Draco clear in his vision. Harry wasn't making any sound, but Draco frowned in his sleep, eyes moving beneath lids before he opened them up and met Harry's watery own.

Draco brought a hand up to Harry's face, resting his palm against his cheek, brushing Harry's tears away with his thumb. Harry tried to reign in the tears, but Draco's touch had the opposite effect; the tears fell harder. Draco sat up, forcing Harry to do the same. He kissed Harry's wet eyes, wiped at his tears. "Harry…"

"I'm alright." Harry used the back of his hand to dry his tears, feeling like he got a hold of himself. "I've missed you, that's all." There was nothing Draco could say to that. Instead, he pulled Harry into a tight embrace that Harry returned. Harry sniffed, and then tried to lighten the mood. "Anyway, I brought you some soup."

Draco was watching Harry, a curious and yet familiar glint in his eye. "Soup sounds good, but maybe later."

"You're not hungry?"

Draco snuck his bare hands under Harry's shirt, caressing his stomach, his chest, his back, before staring into Harry's eyes. "Not for food, no." He said, voice quiet, low, and intense.

Harry caught a roaming hand in his own, looking around the room uneasily. "Draco...this, this isn't a good idea." Yet he let Draco take his hand and put it on his neck and the other hand on Draco's lower back as Draco moved closer. He leaned into Harry, lips barely brushing Harry's lips. It was difficult to remember what was good and what was bad when Draco was so close, _so _close, and God Harry had missed him. But this was a _hospital_. A place of healing.

The tip of Draco's tongue slid past Harry's lips and Harry leaned in to receive it, holding Draco's face close to his. He heard Draco sighing and felt his hands roaming on Harry's back. Their bond was vibrating, pulsing, with love and desire, further enhancing and enchanting the moment. Harry soaked it up, pulling Draco closer to him, gently running his hands under his shirt. It felt unbelievably good to touch Draco again in this way, to enjoy his skin and not worry if he was running a fever or if that damned wound had reopened (Harry kept his fingers away from the still puffy and red scar). Draco sighed again, and started placing kisses on Harry's neck. He worked his way up, sometimes biting, sometimes sucking, eliciting quick sighs from Harry. Draco was up to Harry's ear when he reached down and stroked Harry's arousal through his jeans.

Harry closed in eyes in passion, trying to concentrate as Draco used his fingers to harden him. A part of his brain that was still thinking rationally tried to stop him, grasping his hand. "You don't have to, Draco."

He paused, one lip quirked up. "I know, but, I've missed you too." He echoed Harry's earlier thoughts. He put both of his hands on Harry's chest and pushed him down. Push being a relative term. He _was _weak. Had Harry decided to fight him on this there was no way Draco would have succeeded. The fact that Harry didn't fight him encouraged Draco, as did the strong wave of desire that rushed to him through their bond. Draco unbuttoned and unzipped Harry's pants with one hand as Harry watched him, breathing deeply. Harry was already starting to get hard and Draco's hands on him sent shivers of pleasure up and down his body. Draco was using his tongue all over Harry's member, teasing him, causing him to harden. Harry gasped, holding the sheets in his hands and Draco put him all the way in his mouth. Harry was in the throes of sensations, always aware that it was Draco bringing these feelings to life. Draco's tongue did something and Harry threw his head back, tingles of pleasure cascading up to his head and down to his feet.

Harry sighed. It felt so good. Even when the pressure built and Harry thought he was going to come undone at the seems, he loved every moment. Draco pulled out with his mouth, slowly and sensually, almost creating a vacuum. It took a lot of will power on Harry's part not to shout out.

"Harry. " Draco was sitting up on an elbow, right hand firmly around Harry's way he said his name...it was like giving him permission to enjoy the moment, to let go.

Harry paused for a second, but seeing the intensity in Draco's eyes and feeling his hand on him, made him nod. Draco used his hands on Harry, up and down, up and down, pumping until Harry was sweating, breathing deeply, licking his lips. The powerful pressure built up inside, nowhere to go, and still Draco kept moving. Harry started to shudder, and at the last possible second Draco covered him with a sheet. Harry came, wave after wave of pleasure wracking his body until he was left spent, breathing heavily. Draco crawled up closer to Harry, lying down with his face nestled against Harry's neck. Harry wrapped his arms around him, kissing his forehead.

They stayed that way, tucked together for a while. Harry felt calmer now, more at ease. Like if he needed to leave that sense of panic wouldn't overwhelm him. Maybe they had just needed to be physically close. He and Draco had never gone so long without being intimate since he returned from New York.

Draco placed soft kisses on Harry's neck. "Alright. I'm hungry now."

"For food?" Harry teased as he zipped up his pants.

Draco was watching him as he got out of bed, sitting up and turning so his legs were over the edge. "You know what we need to do?"

Harry was testing the temperature on the container, shaking his head. "No. What?" Eric had packed plastic bowls and spoons and Harry was giving them portions as he listened.

"We need to go on a vacation." Draco pulled one leg up and held it with his hands crossed. "Somewhere where we can walk around naked all day and I can have you whenever I want."

Harry actually loved the sound of that. He turned and kissed Draco for a few seconds before handing him his bowl of soup. "We _should_ do that." He sat in the large chair, Draco using his knee as a footrest almost instantly. "Where would we go?"

Draco was about to take a spoonful of soup, stopping before the spoon hit his lips. "Don't be fucking with me, Harry."

Harry laughed. "No, I really do think it's a great idea. We'll get you better and then we should go somewhere. For your birthday maybe?"

"Somewhere with sun and open air." Draco made a face. "I'm so sick and tired of walls."

"Hmm, an island then? Pristine waters, white sandy beaches. We can rent one of those...what are those little homes called?"

"A cabana?"

"Exactly. A cabana." Harry ate a few bites of soup. "No mobiles."

"No. No mobiles." Draco agreed wholeheartedly. He ate some soup, a little smile playing on his lips. "Thanks Harry. That gives me something look forward to. Now all I have to do is get out of this place. Oh," and here his mood turned a little sarcastic, "and defeat _another _Death Eater."

Harry shrugged, refusing to let his good mood vanish. "The odds are in your favor, you know."

Draco half opened his mouth and then laughed. "Why doesn't that make me feel better?" He returned to eating his soup, tilting his head curiously. "That reminds me. Do you know where my wand is?" Harry had a mouthful of soup but he nodded, pointing to the bag that had earlier held his pajamas. "Good. I like that wand."

A knock came from the door. "Harry? Draco? It's Luna."

"Come in!" Harry answered over his shoulder.

Luna came in with smiling as she made her way in the room. She wasn't wearing her green Healer robes and instead wore bright blue leggings with a purple peacoat. Large Pegasus earrings hung from her ears, wings flapping every time she moved. Her long wavy blond hair was loose and past her waist. "I've just come from Frank and Alice and wanted to check on you." She was approaching Draco as she spoke. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I want to go home." Draco said deadpanned.

"Can you walk to and from the bathroom on your own yet?"

Draco was quiet, avoiding her eyes as he continued to sip his soup.

Harry rolled his eyes. "No, he can't. He's getting stronger though." He added as Draco glared at him.

Luna shrugged, breathing out through her nose. "I'd like it better if you could."

"Why?" Draco stretched and set his empty bowl on the round table next to Harry. "I have a wand and I have Harry."

Before Harry could argue that he couldn't be around _all _the time, Luna stared him down. "Don't be a bad patient, Draco. That spell nearly killed you. It takes time to heal. " Without saying anything Draco put his bowl on the table and turned around, back to Luna and Harry.

Harry could feel Draco's myriad of emotions. He was resentful and guilty as well. He wasn't trying to be difficult; he just wanted to go home.

"Sorry," she said lightly after seeing Draco's reaction. Though she apologized more because it was expected of her. "If you gain a bit more strength in the next couple days, I don't see why you can't go home. I just don't want you to relapse again."

"Neither do I," Harry added softly. Draco made no indication that he was listening. Harry knew better.

Luna paused. "I'll have the Healers add a few more Envigorate potions. That should help." Draco still said nothing, but he at least shrugged. Luna looked at Harry and he mouthed the words "Thank you". She nodded. "Well, goodnight." She turned and left, closing the door behind her.

Harry took his empty bowl and Draco's and went into the bathroom to rinse the soup clean. It was an excuse more than anything. He could have used a _scourgify_ and magically cleaned them, but he had the feeling the Draco wanted some space. Draco was doing a damned good job of shielding his thoughts from Harry. Harry got the gist, namely, Draco was unhappy and wanted to be alone. Clearer thoughts were harder to come by. Harry came back into the room and Draco was under the covers, facing away from him. Harry sighed internally as he returned the bowls in the bag with the empty soup container. He was conflicted. On one hand, Draco was feeling better than he had for a long time. Harry wanted to stay with him, enjoy his company, sleep with him. Actual sleep, his mind added. Small steps. However, if Draco wanted to be alone then Harry wasn't going to force the inclusion.

He waited, hoping Draco would talk to him. To kill a few moments he rummaged through his bag, pulling out a pair of pajama bottoms and a magazine. When Draco still made no move to talk Harry decided to brush his teeth in the bathroom. As he was running the water to brush his teeth, bits and pieces of Draco's emotions came through their bond. Harry recognized frustration most all. All of Draco's anger and rage and frustration was boiling right under the surface like magma, looking for a place to go, looking for a way to explode. Harry rinsed his mouth and came back into the bedroom, taking a deep breath and exhaling silently. He sat at the end of the bed. "Are you going to talk to me?" Draco mumbled something that Harry couldn't make out. "What?"

Draco threw off the covers. "I said I hate this."

"I know."

"Do you?" Draco got out of the bed and leaned heavily on the mattress. "I feel weak and vulnerable. I was taught to despise those things. But here I am!" He was edging around the bed as he talked.

Harry sighed. "You're _recovering_. This isn't a permanent condition." Draco made an exasperated noise and turned toward the bathroom. Harry got to his feet a little alarmed. "What are you doing?"

"If getting there," he pointed at the bathroom as he glared, "gets me home faster, than dammit I'm getting there."

"Draco, don't."

Draco glanced at Harry from the side, but remained focused on the bathroom. He took a few tentative steps, one hand still on the mattress for support. With a deep breath he let go. Harry watched as he struggled. Each step was laborious. One, then two, then three. It was very slow going. Harry wanted to help, but Draco's feelings on this were crystal clear. _Don't help me. _So he stood and watched. After about six steps Draco was breathing heavily. Another step and Harry could see his legs shaking. Still the stubborn man was pressing on. Harry, seemingly on his feet's own accord, had moved from the bed and was shadowing Draco a few steps behind. It was a good thing too. Still a good fifteen feet from the bathroom Draco's strength gave out. Harry saw it coming, saw the wavering of balance, the unsteady feet. Draco began to fall backward, arms spiraling. He fell into Harry's arms.

"Let go." He said stubbornly while shamelessly using Harry for support.

"No. Stop being an idiot. I'm not going to let you fall just to prove a point." Draco settled his weight on Harry's hands, his back to Harry's chest. He was shielding again. Harry could feel their bond, warm and loving and special in that place above his heart, but Draco wasn't letting any of his current emotions through. They were there, Harry could sense them, just out of his reach. Harry held Draco up and forced him to face him. "I need you to talk to me." He put a supporting arm under Draco's arm and touched the matching spot on Draco's chest. Draco was watching him with a closed expression. "You're not alone anymore. Isn't that what this means? I'm here, unless you want me to go."

Harry felt Draco's shock and fear and his eyes snapped up to Harry's, wide. "No." He put his hand over Harry's heart, clutching his shirt in his fingers. Harry could feel Draco hesitantly widen their bond. Harry was surprised when the strongest emotion he felt was guilt. Draco felt guilty. Not because he felt he had done something wrong, but that this whole thing was his fault. Or that he was being punished for crimes he committed in his youth. A part of him wondered if he didn't deserve to be dead. He had this picture in his head of himself, skeletal and weak next to a picture of a healthy Harry. Draco dropped his head against Harry's chest. "You deserve better." He finally said.

That surprised Harry. "Better than what? You?" Draco nodded and Harry laughed despite himself. "This is all just temporary." He hugged Draco to him. "Luna's right. You _are _a bad patient." Draco looked offended and tried to pull away, but Harry held him firmly. "Stop. Draco, be patient." With a free hand Harry titled Draco's chin so he was facing him. Draco wore a stubborn and defiant expression that Harry actually adored. What was Draco without that stubborn streak? "Tomorrow we'll start building your strength up. I'll help."

He could feel Draco debate within his brain. He wanted to go home now, not later, but he was starting to come to grips with his reality. He sighed and Harry could feel most of his frustration and negatively release from within him with the same breath. Then he felt a trickle of amusement. "I wonder…"

"You wonder?"

Draco met Harry's eyes, his own lighter now, sparkling. The storm had passed. "I wonder which of us is actually the more stubborn?"

Harry laughed and took a deep breath. "Come on. Let's get ready for bed." Draco and smiled and let Harry support him to the bathroom. He was leaning heavily on Harry now, hardly able to pick his feet up off the ground. It was more of a shuffle. By the time he brushed his teeth and was making his way back to bed Harry was supporting nearly all Draco's weight. He fell into bed, breathing heavily, eyelids half closed. Harry changed into his pajama pants. The hospital was warmer than he liked so he stripped out of his t shirt before turning off the lights and joining Draco in the bed. It was smaller than their king sized at home, but still enough space for them both. Though Harry usually slept on Draco at home, Draco turned over and with a small grunt moved closer until he was able to rest on Harry. Harry wrapped an arm around him. "I forgot to tell you. I talked to Brian. He has some plans for a new shop to show you. I told him I'd bring him tomorrow."

"A new shop." Draco sounded wistful. "That would be a nice distraction."

"I'm sure." He didn't add about his meeting with Ron and Neville. There wasn't anything to share yet and Harry would rather keep that to himself until he knew more. Harry tried to relax. It had been a trying day. Though Harry had paid to have a private room at St. Mungo's there was still noise coming from the hall. Various healers or cleaners, or visitors walked the halls at all time of night. The extra noise was hard to tune out when one was used to complete silence in their own bedroom.

He heard Draco yawn. "I can't wait to go home." He wasn't complaining, just stating a very true fact.

"Me either," Harry admitted.

Draco pressed himself closer to Harry. "Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight, Love."


	26. Chapter 26: Returned Fortunes

**Returned Fortunes**

Harry had already gone home, showered and returned to St. Mungo's before Draco woke. It was a nice day outside, not that one could tell within the windowless room. Draco had a point. Too many walls did feel like a prison. He brought back some clothes for Draco, knowing instinctively that Draco would rather be caught dead than have Brian see him in cotton pajamas. He had also made Draco breakfast. A _real_ breakfast of eggs and a biscuit; fresh fruit from a street vendor and coffee. Draco's eyes were still closed when he stretched in the bed. "That smells wonderful," he said sitting up.

"I thought you'd appreciate it." He handed Draco an insulated coffee mug.

"Thank you." Draco inhaled deeply. "I love you."

Harry wasn't sure if he was talking to him or to the coffee. He smiled and held up a pair of Draco's favorite pants, the dark black ones that tapered toward the ankle. "Look what else I brought." He showed off the olive colored turtleneck sweater that he picked out to go with it.

"You are amazing." Draco said with approval.

"I know." He took Draco's coffee so he could move closer to the round table between the bed and the chair. "And I made us breakfast."

"Hell, Harry." Draco was full smiles of appreciation.

"I'll even help you take a shower and get dressed. There is a bit of a catch though." Draco was watching him with a guarded expression. He gestured for Harry to continue as he picked at the fruit. "I'm meeting with Ron and Neville for a bit. I thought, maybe while Brian was here you wouldn't mind if I left for a while." Harry didn't like telling half truths to Draco. He just didn't want to get his hopes up. If Ron and Neville found something worth reporting he'd come clean. He ate his breakfast to keep his thoughts from wondering any further.

Draco made a face as he ate his breakfast. "I only have selfish reasons to keep you here, so you should go."

"Thanks." Harry lifted his own coffee cup in a salute and Draco returned it. They finished eating in a comfortable silence. It was good to see Draco's appetite returning. He ate lightly as it was; Harry was afraid he'd never gain the weight back.

After they had breakfast, Harry helped Draco take a shower and then helped him dress as he sat on the edge of the bed. Seeing Draco naked today was not helping Harry concentrate. Maybe it was because Harry knew Draco was feeling better, or maybe he just missed his lover, but this time a naked Draco was eliciting feelings of longing within Harry. He did his best to quash and repress them. Draco was _better_, he wasn't well. Harry's libido was just going to have to take a back seat. Even if Draco's skin was smooth under his fingers. Smooth and cool. Even if Draco demanded to go commando because the boxers would 'show lines'. Harry was having a very hard time keeping his hands to himself as he helped bring the turtleneck sweater over Draco's head. He was doing his best to keep his thoughts in line, really he was, so it was a bit of a surprise when Draco brought his arms around Harry's head as he finished working his arms into the sweater.

Draco pulled Harry close to him, in between his legs and softly kissed him on the lips, once, twice, three times, Harry responding in kind. By the fourth and fifth time the kiss was deepening. Draco slowly slipped his tongue past Harry's lips and then back. Tentative, questing, like a first kiss. Harry welcomed it. That little voice that was trying to peep up and say this was a bad idea was growing fainter and fainter each time Draco's tongue went further and further. Soon Harry wasn't even pretending to hold back. He titled his head, put his hand on the back of Draco's neck and fully engaged Draco. Bursts of pleasure and happiness and _wholeness_ flowed into Harry and he returned the feelings. It felt so good kissing Draco this way. Like the whole world could just melt away and there was just him and Draco.

A knock on the door rudely interrupted the illusion. Harry tried to pull away, but Draco stopped him. "Ignore it." His voice was thick and he was kissing Harry again without listening for an answer. Harry sighed into Draco's mouth, forgetting what he was supposed to be forgetting. Until the the knocking began again.

"Mr. Potter? I have Mr. Malfoy's Invigoration Potion."

Oh, a healer. "Well, damn."

"Well, damn." Draco echoed as he gently brushed Harry's hair into some semblance of order.

"Am I decent?" Harry teased.

"Unfortunately, yes." Came Draco's very disappointed and dry reply as he leaned back on his hands.

Harry took one more look at Draco and kissed his lips briefly before raising his voice. "Yes! Come in!"

The healer came in, some young woman, happy and cheerful with a bubbling potion on a tray. She was going on making small talk without much input from Harry or Draco, until she rounded the large chair that was blocking them from her view. Harry bemusedly wanted to know what she saw, for she stumbled on her next words and her eyes widened. Bright pink flushed her cheeks as she lowered her eyes. She had to move close to them in order to put the potion down. Harry got just a bare hint of mischievousness from Draco before long arms draped around him, one on each side of his neck, locking in an embrace. The poor healer's pink face turned bright red and she hurried to back away. "Um, take it with food. The potion!" She was walking toward the door, eyes on her feet. "Take the potion with food and have a good day."

As the door closed Draco released him and fell back on the bed laughing.

"That was mean," Harry chided, but as hard as he tried he couldn't keep the mirth out of his own voice. "Take this before it fizzles out." Draco sat up and grimaced as he drank the potion, coughing and gagging the entire time. Harry laughed despite himself. "Don't be such a baby."

Draco put the cup down and wiped his face with his sleeve. "Next time _you _take it then." The potion had a near instant reaction. Draco's pale skin blushed, his eyes brightened, he stood up straighter as strength returned. Even his hair looked prettier. And he was watching Harry with unconcealed longing.

Harry decided to put some distance between them, backing up and away as Draco gave him a knowing look. "I'm going to get Brian." Draco's expression didn't waver except a slight quirk of the lips that Harry ignored. "Do you want me to bring him here or the courtyard?" Draco pretended to think about his answer, when in reality he was silently sending unmistakable thoughts about what he wanted to do to Harry or what he wanted Harry to do to him. Either way involved nude bodies and exclamations of passion. Harry swallowed, but his mouth was dry. "Stop that," he said feebly. His body was starting to react to Draco's teasing suggestions.

"Do you really want me to?" Draco moved to the edge of the bed, patting it in invitation.

"No," Harry said honestly, "but I _need _you to. I can't concentrate."

"Good. Come back then."

Harry shook his head. "Please, behave. We've made plans today, remember?"

Draco got to his feet, holding the chair's armrest for support. "I remember. I just don't care."

"Hell, Draco." Harry brushed his hand through his hair. It was difficult to deny Draco, especially when Harry wanted to give in so much, oh so much, and Draco was standing there looking at him that way. But Harry's sense of duty got in the way. He took another step toward the door. "I'll be back in a few with Brian. We'll meet you in the courtyard, alright?"

One of Draco's eyebrows lifted. He was amused and thankfully not angry at Harry's decision, though he did cross his arms. "If you think I'd rather see Brian than have you, you are sorely mistaken. BUT," he said before Harry could argue, "I understand. So you better get out of here before I change your mind."

And Harry knew he could do it. Draco nearly made Harry forget everything with just a kiss. If he'd continued with those mental innuendos Harry would have given in and taken Draco then and there. _Merlin, _but that didn't help either. That image was enough to arouse Harry, though not enough to show through his pants. He took a deep breath and headed out the door, unable to say anything to Draco. At least Draco was amused, sending soundless laughter through their bond.

About an hour later Harry was sipping an iced tea at Ron and Hermione's as they waited for Neville. Harry had completely lost track of the days and had asked where Hermione was. Apparently it was a weekday and she was working. Hogwarts was on Easter break so he had been able to help Ron without his duties as a professor conflicting on his time. As they waited Ron asked Harry how Draco was recovering. Though Hermione had been to see him, Ron kept his distance. It wasn't like they were the greatest friends and Ron had felt awkward. Since Harry wasn't actively shielding he felt a bit of surprise from Draco, followed by appreciation. So Harry had told Ron Draco didn't mind. It made Ron feel better.

Halfway through his tea, Neville arrived holding two thick folders. Now was the time to start shielding Draco. Harry subtly constricted the flow of emotions, like quietly closing a window in a room and no one notices until it was too stuffy. He hoped Draco would be too involved in Brian's presentation to notice as well.

Neville sat at a chair and declined a drink. "Well, which do you want first? The good news or the bad news?"

Harry leaned on his elbows. "Might as well give me the bad."

"We still haven't been able to locate Maximus Cooke." Harry had a feeling he'd say that. Neville was flipping through a file that Harry assumed was Cooke's. "He knows all the tricks, knows all the spells. For all we know he could be hiding in plain site. Shacklebolt doesn't want to start a panic, so word of his disappearance and defection have been kept a secret."

"Which brings up another interesting fact," Ron chimed in from the counter. "There is no record of Cooke or his brother ever being part of the Death Eaters. The way their Dark Marks were so...vivid...Hermione thought that maybe they were _real _tattoos. Muggle like."

"Meaning what?" Harry said with a frown. "They became Death Eaters _after_ Voldemort's defeat? Why?"

"I asked Hagrid to snoop around," Neville continued. "Apparently there is a resurgence underground. A very quiet group that is trying to honor the Death Eater vows." He rifled through a file and pulled out a few parchments. "Several Death Eaters that recanted their oath to Voldemort have died in the last several years."

"Even when we were Aurors?" Harry shook his head. "Shit. Draco was right. Why didn't we know?"

Ron shrugged. "Cooke. He was our supervisor."

"So, now what?"

Neville closed the folder. "Well, we told Shacklebolt. I guess they go through screening again and like last time they're going to have to re-investigate all the past cases." He glanced at Ron. "They're short staffed. Cooke has been cleverly thinning the ranks. He either failed new recruits or sent them into questionable assignments where they never returned. Ron and I were thinking of going back, helping out. We could use you."

"No." Harry said without pause.

Ron seemed surprised. "Harry…"

"No, I couldn't do it. I've lost faith in the Aurors, I'm sorry. And…" He could only imagine Draco's reaction. The Aurors were everything about the Ministry that Draco hated. An organization with seemingly endless power and authority to work on any scope. Then add in the negative experience with Cooke. Harry couldn't and wouldn't do that to him. It would be too much to ask. "Draco would never understand. The Aurors are an enemy to him. He'd see it as a betrayal." He could see Ron and Neville digesting those facts and coming to terms with it.

Neville nodded. "Well, the good news then." He slid over the other folder. It was nearly twice as thick. "We were curious about Cooke's infatuation with the Malfoy's."

Harry flipped through the file. There were pages upon pages detailing Lucius Malfoy's locations over the past couple years. Every part of his life. Where he stayed, where he ate, how much money he was spending. It was all there. Nearly a quarter through the file changed to Narcissa. Not as much information, but still. Someone was clearly watching her. Toward the end was Draco's. This made the hair on Harry's neck stand on end. Oddly Draco's wasn't the thickest part of the file. In fact, it seemed there was relatively little information on him during the time he lived in London as a muggle. Just blurbs really, parts that could be extrapolated from the Death Eater attacks. What was upsetting was the back half of Draco's file. Once he and Draco started seeing each other there were many more entries. Someone had redacted Harry's name, but it was obvious there had been spied on. "Jesus."

Ron and Neville shared a look. "We found something interesting," Ron said shuffling through the file. He pointed to the beginning of several pages that had the listings of all the Malfoy possessions confiscated as well as the funds frozen and from which accounts. "All of this," he flipped through the pages, "it was never officially sanctioned from the Ministry."

"What?"

"None of this should have been taken, at least, not _this _list."

Neville handed Harry another much smaller list on a single piece of parchment. "These are the only things the Ministry specifically asked to be removed from the Malfoy's possession. All the rest? It seems Cooke took some liberty."

Harry frowned, looking at the list in confusion. "What are you saying?"

"We're saying that all these funds, all these belongings, they were taken illegally." Neville seemed excited. "We got them released. Draco or his father can claim them whenever they want!"

It took a moment for that to set in and then Harry was smiling broadly. "You know, Draco might actually start to like you after this." Ron and Neville laughed. "Can I have this?" Harry pointed to the parchment.

Ron handed him another slip of parchment with a grin. "I made you a copy."

"This is brilliant." At the same time Harry got a questioning probe from Draco's side of the bond. He wanted to know why Harry was shielded as much. They couldn't have finished at a better time. He relaxed his 'hold' on the bond, opened the window so to say, and openly emoted that he had good news to share. He could feel Draco's curiosity. Harry got up from the table. "I have to go. I'm really impressed you guys and I wish you luck. In the meanwhile, Draco and I will be careful, though he's stuck at St. Mungo's for another day or two or so at least there's that." Neville shook Harry's outstretched hand and he and Ron exchanged a quick hug. "Keep me in the loop," he requested and then he was apparating away.

After a few inquiries Harry found out that Draco and Brian were still outside in the courtyard. Harry made his way through the halls of the hospital. At one time all the halls and turns and quads looked the same, but now Harry was able to navigate the hospital fairly well. It was becoming familiar and with familiarity a sense of protection. It wasn't home though. All hospitals, muggle or wizard, seemed to have a similar smell of antiseptic, illness, and a faint undercurrent of fear. Harry would be glad to be home with Draco and away from this place, though he'd never tell Draco in those exact same words. Draco would seize on his weakness and convince him to take him home. Harry climbed a set of stone stairs that led up to the outdoor courtyard. Somewhere there was a ramp for patients too unwell or weak to walk and who were rolled outside for fresh air. Others, like Draco, were apparated.

Harry inhaled the fresh air deeply as he came up the stairs. A flower was in bloom; it's fragrance soft and sweet. Sunlight filtered through thin fluffy clouds cascaded down on the stone paths and walls and plants. It made Harry glad to be outside. He could also feel Draco's happiness, a counterpoint to his own. Draco was starting to realize how much he enjoyed the sun and being outside. Harry glanced around for Draco and Brian as he walked through the courtyard garden. Around a bend and some twenty feet he saw them. From his vantage point he saw Draco, but unless Draco turned his head to the right sharply he wouldn't see Harry. Brian was sitting next to him on the wrought iron patio furniture, their heads together over papers spread out on the table.

Harry leaned against a stone column and just watched for a moment. Seeing Draco interested and intrigued, it brought a soft smile to his lips. And of course, from this angle Harry was able to appreciate Draco in privacy. So he watched as the sunlight lit up his hair and how he'd brush strands out of his eyes absentmindedly. His hair had gotten longer; he'd need it cut soon. He could just make out the excited pitch of Draco's voice, though not what he was saying. It wasn't that important to Harry. He was just happy that Draco was enjoying himself. Harry watched Draco's animated face, his lips moving fast as he pointed and discussed things with Brian. Harry loved seeing him so full of life. Feeling his moment of voyeurism was coming to a close, Harry began walking toward Draco and Brian. _Hello, love_. He shared with Draco.

Draco turned toward him with such a lovey smile that Harry felt his heart flutter. "Hi yourself," He answered aloud.

"Have you made progress?" Harry asked as he approached their table. To Draco he opened his thoughts and feelings. The most prominent being how gorgeous Draco looked. Once in reach he kissed Draco briefly, shorter than he intended, for Draco's answering flare of passion made Harry put some distance between them. He could feel Draco's eyes boring into the back of his head, that spot above his heart grew warm. Harry felt Draco mentally caresses him. It was like invisible hands roaming over his body, through his body. Harry glanced back at Draco who was watching him with a twinkle in his grey eyes. Well, two could play that game. Harry imagined trailing kisses on Draco's chin, down to his neck and to his lips. He watched Draco close his eyes and inhale a shuddering breath before he called a truce, withdrawing his mental fingers but not without one last touch. Harry's lips curled up into a smile.

Brian seemed oblivious to the tension between them. He stood and stretched as he pointed at a paper on the table. Harry focused on it, surprised to see blueprints. "I think this could work. It has space and functionality. It's close to the shops and vendors. We'd just need capital."

Draco sat back, brows furrowed. "I think we could manage, Brian. It would just be tight."

"What about you, Harry?" Brian raised his eyebrows. "Looking for a new investment?"

"No," Harry said harsher than he meant. He even felt Draco recoil, surprised at Harry's refusal. Draco knew he had the money. It wasn't even about the money, it was just how final his answer was. Harry pulled out the parchment with the Malfoy records. "Let me rephrase that: you won't need my help." He handed the parchment over to Draco who opened it slowly.

"What is this?"

"Ron and Neville have been digging around. They found something interesting." Harry watched Draco's face as he read through the parchment. The shock hit Harry first, followed by anger and then a dawning realization.

Draco looked up from the paper with the beginning of a smile. "All of it?"

"Just about." Harry shrugged. He could feel Draco's joy and relief spread through him.

Brian cleared his throat. "Someone going to tell me what's going on?"

Draco looked to Harry, asking him to explain. His eyes went back to the parchment double and triple reading the information as if he were afraid it wasn't true. Harry stretched and pulled a nearby chair over to their table. It screeched on the stone, but Harry ignored it, sitting next to Draco. "Draco's family is one of the wealthiest wizarding families in Britain."

Brian's mouth dropped open. "Get out of here."

"However, for the past three years the Ministry...that's our government...has been holding their property and funds hostage."

"Why?"

"Because they're bastards," Draco chimed in.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Honestly, we're going to move past the why. What's really exciting is most of Draco's funds and belongings were illegally seized. All Draco needs to do is go to Gringotts and it's all restored to him." Draco was holding the paper like a lifeline, not quite smiling, but Harry could tell he was immensely happy.

"Like, how rich we talking here?" Brian asked curiously.

"Richer than the Queen," Draco said smugly.

Harry shrugged when Brian turned to him for confirmation. He was used to the idea of the Malfoy's having money. Oddly, it was stranger knowing a poor Draco. Though poor was the wrong word. Thanks to his mother's holdings under her maiden name Draco wasn't _poor_. He just wasn't throw away money wealthy. He had it back now and a trickle of worry was starting to worm its way into Harry's mind. At first he had been thrilled for Draco. Having his money back was vindication against the Ministry. But what if it changed Draco? What if he wanted to go back to the Wizarding World? Harry had no desire to live among wizards again. Worse, what if some of the worst characteristics of Draco's youth; his arrogance, his spoiledness, his prejudices, what if they returned? Harry couldn't love that Draco…And...he couldn't _not_ love Draco. His stomach turned into a knot.

"Harry?" Draco was touching his knee, bending so he could look into Harry's eyes. "What's wrong?"

His eyes were so gentle and caring. For now. God, Harry remembered those eyes when they had been younger. Cold, calculating, harsh. Harry would die if he saw those eyes again.

"Hey, Brian," Draco said casually, "can you go downstairs and get me a glass of water? I'd really appreciate it."

"Sure. Do I just walk around?"

"They'll find you."

Brian nodded. "Be right back."

Draco watched him round the corner and once out of sight put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "What's going on, Harry?" He touched Harry's heart. "You're all over the place and you look like a deer caught in _lumos_."

"I don't even know if I can explain it in words. Here." Harry opened his connection to Draco and let all his fear and worry flow out. He wasn't sure how Draco would react, but hadn't he just been on Draco's case to talk to him? Seemed like bad timing to become a hypocrite. He watched Draco's expression, his brows were furrowed and he was frowning.

And then he was struggling out of his chair and onto Harry's lap, wrapping his arms around him and laying his head on Harry's shoulder. "Shit Harry, you think too much."

Harry chuckled as he slowly held Draco, mindful not to hold him too tight on the left side. "Maybe."

"Look, I don't know what will happen in the future, but I wouldn't make such a big decision unilaterally. We're partners, Harry. And, as you keep reminding me, you're stuck with me."

"Partners?"

"Yes, idiot."

Harry grinned and started to feel better. And stupid. Better and stupid. Holding Draco was nice, even if he was all legs. Legs and arms and lips. Lips that were very close to his. Lips that were touching his. Lips that Harry found he needed very much to kiss. Kissing Draco was like filling up with love. Every inch of him responded with goosebumps and chills. Every thought became focused on Draco and only Draco. His skin beneath his fingers, his breath, his chest rising and falling, Merlin, his tongue. No one kissed him like Draco and no one ever would. Because they were partners, soul bonds. Draco was his forever.

"If you wanted some privacy you could have just asked."

Harry and Draco broke apart, surprised but only a little embarrassed. Brian had a knowing look on his face as he handed Draco his glass of water.

"Thanks." Draco said with a grin.

"Anytime."

A healer in light green robes was a few feet away, calling out lightly for Draco. That ended their afternoon together. Draco was due for his potions and Harry needed to return Brian. While he was away Harry made plans to make dinner, to which Draco suggested fish. That was a good protein. Harry readily agreed. They all said goodbye. The healer and Draco apparated away and so did Harry and Brian once they got to the deserted store front.

Harry returned later in the evening. He had gone home and packed a few more things for he and Draco while cooking dinner. Draco suggested they eat in the mess hall, so they did. It was rare that Draco wanted to eat with the other hospital patients. Harry was getting used to the curious glances he and Draco elicited when they ate together, tuning out the prying eyes as Draco spoke about the building that Brian had found. Draco was also eating and not just picking at his food or moving it around like he did sometimes when he didn't think Harry was paying attention. Eventually he ate the entire filet of haddock, which pleased Harry. After dinner they stayed in one of the visiting rooms. It was a large room with plenty of comfortable chairs for family and friends to spend time with their loved ones. There was also an old fashioned chess set that Draco challenged Harry too. Even though Harry told Draco he was awful at chess he didn't believe him, reminded him that he once said he didn't play darts either and look how that ended. So, he still wanted to play Harry. When Draco slaughtered him not once, but _twice _within an hour Draco finally believed him.

Eventually they made their way back to their room. Draco was much stronger today, but he still needed Harry's support. They readied for the night and got in bed. Harry reached for their book and read a few chapters. Draco fell asleep quickly, lying on his back, Harry's shoulder his pillow. Trying very hard not to disturb Draco, Harry tossed the book on the nightstand and stretched until his fingers reached his wand. He cast the spell to douse the light and then put his wand back. It was dark, but not quite silent. In some ways it was easy to forget they were in a hospital and just not in some mediocre hotel somewhere. Actually, Harry liked that thought better. This was just a temporary visit, this hotel St. Mungo's. Soon he and Draco would be back home together. That thoughts was relaxing enough that Harry soon fell asleep.

A familiar weight on Harry's body woke him up. But this wasn't the weight of a body asleep. No, this body was very much awake, moving, pressing, caressing Harry in the darkness. A cool hand with slender fingers reached down between Harry's legs and gently started teasing Harry, squeezing and pulling. The other hand was on one of Harry's nipples, a mouth on the other. Harry's body was wide awake now, tingling and throbbing. "Draco," he managed to get out in between gasps of air, "we shouldn't…"

Draco didn't stop anything he was doing. "Shouldn't what?" He used his tongue on Harry. It was too dark to see Harry's reaction but Draco could hear the sudden intake of breath. He felt Harry's arousal grow in his hands. "Don't tell me you don't want this. You'd be lying."

"No," Harry felt for Draco and found a bare shoulder, holding it tightly as Draco continued his administrations. "Dammit Draco, but this isn't home. It's not proper."

"Proper?" Draco paused as if to consider, and then started placing kisses on Harry's chest. "I don't give a fuck about it being 'proper'. Do you know what I care about?" He heard Harry shake his head. "I care about this," he used his fingers to trace the entire length of Harry's very hard member, "being inside me."

Harry moaned. "Draco." Harry was still arguing, still not convinced, but his protests were weak.

"Harry, please." Draco found Harry's face in the dark and kissed him until their lungs were fit to burst. "I need you," Draco continued as he kissed Harry's neck, sucking and using his teeth. He could hear Harry breathing deeply and could feel him warring against giving in. "_Harry._"

That did it. Harry wasn't able to resist Draco when he used his name that way. He guided Draco as they switched places, Draco on the bottom and Harry on top. Draco's legs were on both sides of Harry. He used his hands and felt from knee to hip and dipped down just slightly so he could slide into Draco. Draco sighed loudly as Harry moved in deeper and deeper. There was a sense of the taboo in what they were doing and Harry found it doubly arousing. He couldn't see Draco, but he could feel his body and his bond. He could hear him trying his best to be quiet and all of that combined was driving Harry crazy with desire. He found a rhythm, not too fast, not too slow. Draco was silent except for sighs and gasps. Anything he wanted to share with Harry he did through their bond. Harry not only experienced _his _pleasure, but Draco's too. The tingling, the heat, the spots in his eyes, the pressure; every time Harry moved Draco felt something new.

Harry knew he wasn't going to last long. It had been too long and _Merlin _he had missed this, missed Draco's body, missed the feeling of their skin touching, hot on cold. He missed how Draco moved underneath him, meeting his thrusts. He missed how Draco's hands pulled him down to kiss him. He had missed it all. Now that he had it there was no way he could pace himself on not give in. Draco was just too tempting. He bent down and kissed Draco again, still moving in him. "Draco?" He whispered, asking permission, wanting to come but not if Draco wasn't ready. Draco didn't answer him in words; he opened his bond wider so Harry could feel exactly what he was feeling. He wanted Harry as desperately as Harry wanted him. There was no holding back now. Harry thrust deep, Draco answered with a hushed exclamation. He did it again and again and then once more, shaking and trembling as he came. Draco choked on his cry, body arching up as he climaxed.

Sweat was clinging to Harry's face, his neck, his back, and he couldn't have cared less about the mess Draco made on him as he lowered his body down on top of Draco's. He found Draco's lips, salty from sweat and kissed him. A cool hand touched his side. Harry smiled into Draco's kiss and pulled away. "Hang on." He whispered as he stretched and grabbed his wand from the nightstand and cast _scourgify _a few times before blinding throwing his wand in the general direction of the chair. "There." He felt Draco chuckle. "Do you want to switch?"

"No," Draco was brushing his fingers through Harry's hair. "Stay just like this."

"I'm not hurting your side?"

"No, it's perfect."

Harry could hear Draco's smile and could feel his contentedness. Honestly, it felt amazing to be held by Draco again. Seeing Draco weak shook Harry. He was used to Draco being strong. He was so much stronger than Harry, Harry was beginning to realize now. Whatever was thrown his way he always conquered.

Draco was quiet for a moment before speaking again. "I'm not strong, Harry. If you think I am, it's only because of you." He tightened his hold on Harry's waist. "It's always you."

There wasn't a need to answer that. Harry replied by relaxing into Draco's embrace. They were silent, happy, relaxed. Harry was listening as Draco's heartbeat slowed down, every now and then placing kisses on his chest. "Well, I'll tell you one thing, Love: if you're well enough for sex you're well enough to go home. I'll talk to Luna tomorrow and vouch for you." Draco paused and then started laughing, struggling to keep it quiet. Harry could feel it vibrating through Draco's chest. "Of course, I'll leave out a few details."

Draco laughed out loud at that, and then was pulling Harry up so he could kiss him again. "I love you."

Harry settled down against Draco in his favorite spot, albeit on the opposite side. Draco's shoulder was still the perfect pillow, his chest the best spot for his arm, and their legs were tangled together. "I love you too, Draco." Harry could feel Draco becoming drowsy, his muscles relaxing under Harry's heavier body. "Just imagine, tomorrow we'll be in our bed."

"Hallefuckinglujah."

It was Harry's turn to chuckle. "Goodnight, love."

"Goodnight, Harry."


	27. Chapter 27: A Deadly Distraction

**A Deadly Distraction**

True to his word, Harry woke up early to find Luna. The room was still dark; a bit of light came under the door that kept it from being pitch black. It was enough light for Harry to watch Draco sleep. A smile kept tugging at Harry's lips. Draco looked so peaceful when he slept, well, when he was well. The arm that normally went around Harry was stretched above his head, a halo of silver blond hair fanned out on the pillow and his lips were slightly apart as he breathed deeply in and out. From the outside one would never guess that Draco had been teetering on death's door. Only his stamina and strength failed him now and then, but even those were returning to him more and more each day. Once awake the healers were able to give him more potions to speed along his recovering. Soon, all this would just be a memory. Harry wasn't delusion, he knew there was still danger out there. He just had faith that no matter what he and Draco would overcome it.

Sighing, Harry decided to get in the shower. He found an extra pair of jeans and a shirt in his bag, washed and then dressed. All the while Draco continued to sleep. Harry gave him a fond look and then left the room in search of Luna. Down one hall there was a Healer's station where a young healer was usually standing. It was their job to care for the patients in this part of the hospital. Since it was a private ward Harry gathered the job was a boring one. There was indeed a healer on duty. It was one Harry was starting to recognize. She was reading a wizarding magazine and put it down as Harry approached her.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter."

"Good morning, Piper," he read her name tag quickly. "Has Luna been around yet this morning?"

The healer glanced down at what Harry figured was a schedule. "She's usually visiting the Longbottoms around now. You might try there."

Harry nodded and thanked her as he went in search of Luna. The Longbottoms were housed in a special area of the hospital for those who had lost their minds due to magic. Oddly enough this same ward housed Gilderoy Lockhart. The _obliviate_ spell that backfired on him made it impossible to learn and remember new facts longer than a day. That tended to make him a perfect target for thieves and robbers. The hospital took care of him now. Harry had no idea who paid for it. Probably Lockhart's own fortune. Harry heard Luna's lilting voice before he saw her coming around a corner with another healer. Even though she wore the same green robe as all the other healers, her outfit was till a bit off. She continued to wear the tall pointed hat of tradition while most of the healers went without. Under the hem of her robe she was wearing mismatched sneakers. Harry never knew if she was intentionally kooky or if she was oblivious to fashion. Either way, it was quintessential Luna. She saw him and waved, said a few more words to the healer and then greeted Harry's with a kiss on the cheek.

"Good morning, Harry!"

"Morning, Luna."

"How's Draco feeling since we increased the potions?"

"Excellent. In fact, that's what I was coming to discuss with you."

She must have read something in his face. "You want me to discharge him?"

"Yes. He's doing much better, I can vouch for that. And I'll take more time off work if I need to." Harry watched Luna as she was thinking. It was very hard to guess what went on in Luna's brain. She might be thinking about Draco or she might be wondering if a Snorkack was stalking her. Honestly, there was just no telling.

Eventually she frowned, biting her bottom lip. "Alright, I'll consider sending him home, but I need to inspect the living conditions."

Harry was so excited about bringing Draco home he would have agreed to any condition. Letting her see the penthouse was a super easy request. "Sure, of course. When?"

"I have one more patient to see. I can meet you at Draco's room?"

"That's perfect." Harry paused and then went ahead and hugged Luna. "Thanks. This will mean a lot to him."

She nodded and then was walking away, swaying a little as if she heard a song no on else could hear.

Harry didn't linger. He hurried back to Draco's room. The hospital had its own set of lights and they had turned them on already, though on low. Harry sat on the bed and took Draco's left hand, bringing his cool fingers to his lips. Draco was in that place between awake and asleep, stretching and yawning. He flexed his hand, touching Harry's face. Even without his eyes open he knew where Harry was. "Good morning," he said sleepily.

"Good morning." He gently placed a kiss on Draco's palm. "I talked to Luna," Draco's eyes were wide open now, watching Harry with barely concealed hope.

"And?"

"She wants to see the flat, make sure everything is fine," He shrugged. "I wasn't asking a lot of questions. If that's what it takes to get you home…"

Draco sat up, "Hell, she can inspect the whole hotel if she wants."

Harry laughed. "My thoughts exactly." They shared a smile. Draco was thrilled. His optimism and joy of going home was contagious. Harry wanted him home just as badly. One, because it was home and Harry missed the comforts there. Two, it was a sign that Draco was better. Three, it would be nice to get back into some form of routine. Even if it was altered until they could find Cooke. Four...well, Draco must have been following his line of thought because he suddenly had a devious look in his eye. Four was probably better left unsaid for now. Harry cleared his throat. "Do you want help getting dressed?" _Innocent thoughts, Harry, innocent thoughts_, he said to himself.

Draco considered as he rearranged the pillows around him to sit up. "No, I'll wait for the final verdict." He glanced around. "Where's our book? I feel asleep to you reading the other night. I might as well catch up."

Harry brought the book over and kissed Draco softly on the lips. He was going to say something, but there was a knock on the door. "Harry? Draco?"

"Come on in, Luna."

She came in with that small smile she often wore. "How's the patient?"

"Ready to go home." Draco replied upbeat.

"So I hear." She came to the side of the bed. "Let me see your wound."

Draco complied, gently lifting up his shirt. The cut had healed, the new skin pink and slightly puffy. It ran from the start of Draco's left rib cage to the back, like the spell had tried to cleave him in two. On his side the scar was widest, nearly as wide as Harry's hand. Seeing the scar reminded Harry just how close it really had been. Luna had said the spell was designed to continue cutting deeper until it really did cut the victim in half. Had they got Draco to St. Mungo's any later it would have in pieces. Harry cleared his thoughts. Draco's eyes had widened and he paled. Maybe he hadn't realized how bad it had been…

Luna was delicately touching Draco's scar, poking and prodding. Draco was bearing it with grit teeth. After a few moments he finally had enough. "Shit, Luna. Are you done?"

She looked up startled, pulling away. "Does it still hurt that much?"

Draco rolled his eyes as he put his shirt back. "It does when you keep touching it!" He said waspishly.

She managed to look contrite as she stood. "Sorry. It looks much better. If I like what I see at the flat I'll sign your release. Will that make up for it?"

"Definitely."

"I thought so." Luna turned to Harry. "Well? Shall we? I can apparate us to the nearest station if you think you can get us there."

Harry barely had time to nod and they were in the abandoned department store. In the next breath he appparated them to the flat. Directly into the flat. Luna's appearance would be difficult to explain to muggles. The main room was chilly. The whole place had the feeling that it hadn't been lived in for awhile. Dishes were left drying on the counter, a few articles of clothing were lying around. At least the curtains were pulled back from the wall of windows so there was plenty of light.

Luna was walking around, eyes wide as she made her way to the windows. "This is spectacular."

Harry joined her. "I know." Harry remembered the first time he saw the city from this view. "Draco has good taste. You know," he turned to Luna with a grin, "I think he secretly enjoys sunlight."

"Secretly?"

"Yeah. It doesn't really mesh with his 'I'm a moody artist' vibe that he gives off."

Luna laughed her light flute of a laugh and then turned toward Harry with a more serious expression. "You're good for each other, you know that?"

"_I _know that," Harry confided, "_Draco _knows that. It's everyone else that doesn't get it, so...thank you. I appreciate it." Harry was learning to lower his expectations of acceptance from his friends, but Luna's approval lifted his spirits. Then again, Luna always made up her own mind about things and often had a deeper understanding of the world around her than most gave her credit for. "Really, Luna. Thank you. For everything."

She smiled. "Well, show me the rest of the place."

So Harry did. The last time he was home he had made their bed, opened the blinds and done some basic straightening. He was glad now as he led Luna into their bedroom. She paused at the door, Harry could see the awkwardness on her face. This was a place of privacy and Harry could tell she didn't want to intrude. "It's alright, Luna. Have a look. If there's something that needs to be changed I want to know." With a nod she came in. There was a very clinical and clerical expression on her face as she inspected the room and the en suite. She didn't stay long, heading back to the living room as she was nodding to herself. "Well?"

"The biggest problem is how far apart everything is. If Draco was here," she pointed to the couch, "and he needed to use the loo, how would he do it?"

"He can walk the distance if he's supported," Harry defended.

"And if you're not here?" Luna sighed. "I'm trying to be realistic, Harry. You can't be with him all the time."

Harry crossed his arms and frowned. She was right, but that didn't mean he had to like it. So, how could Draco get assistance if Harry was gone...An idea popped into Harry's head. "Well, I could get him a cane for a while." Then Harry snapped and reached for his wand. He wove a spell, creating sturdy steel bars that sprouted from the floor. One set of bars went from the living room into the kitchen. Another followed the hallway down into the room. Harry remembered seeing something like them in a handicap bathroom stall once in a muggle restaurant. They were ghastly ugly looking and Draco would hate them, but they were a good support.

Luna looked at them with interest. "These are a good idea. What are they called?"

"I don't know. Handrails? Muggles use them for people with disabilities."

"Interesting. Yes..hm…" She was tapping her lips. "I think with these, _and _a cane, _and _if he can take it easy, I don't see why he can't go home." Harry felt his face light up. "He _has_ to take it easy, Harry."

Harry hugged Luna and kissed her cheeks. "I'll make him."

"Well, we should, oh!" Harry watched as Luna was startled by something in her robe pocket. She pulled out a coin with St. Mungo's symbol on it. It was flashing blue. "Something's wrong at the hospital."

Harry understood what that coin was. It was a variation of the spell Hermione used on their coins for Dumbledore's Army back at Hogwarts. Leave it to Luna to find a new application for it. Harry was a bit alarmed. "Like what?" His thoughts immediately turned to Draco. What if Draco relapsed? He reached out for him, relieved when he received a sleepy response. Whatever was wrong, it wasn't affecting Draco.

"I don't know," Luna answered. "Blue is a warning. Here, hold on. It's a portkey."

Once Harry's fingers wrapped around Luna's, she activated the portkey. Harry hated travelling by portkey. The sensation was like having a hook pulled through your belly button and then being yanked through space and spit out at the new location. It left Harry momentarily motion sick, bending over on his knees looking at the tiled, hospital floor. Luna didn't seemed phased. She immediately headed for the main Healer's station. "Wait, Luna." Harry scrambled after her.

As they neared the station Harry could just make out a very clipped and pronounced accent. "Is he here or not?"

Harry slowed down; Luna continued. Harry saw a tall man with his back toward him. The man was wearing an expensive black robe and long silver blond hair. Hair that Harry knew very well, but only on a much younger man. Harry blinked, trying to understand why Lucius Malfoy was at St. Mungo's. He was towering over a male healer, tapping his cane impatiently on the tile.

"I'm sorry, Sir," the healer said from behind the counter, voice wavering. "I can't release any information to you."

The cane pounded on the tile. "He is my son and he is not yet twenty five. That gives me authority." The cane came down again. "So, where is he?"

Luna was within speaking distance now. The healer looked relieved. Harry couldn't see Malfoy's expression, but he could imagine the disdain. Lucius Malfoy was a master of that. "Mr. Malfoy, sorry to keep you waiting. What can I do for you?"

"I'm here to see my son, Draco. This," he pointed to healer, "prole won't give me any information."

"Well, I apologize for the inconvenience, sir, but hospital policy states that we don't give out information on patients without their consent or their authority."

"That's ridiculous." Harry could hear Malfoy's impatience. "I _am _his authority."

Luna put her arms behind her back. "I'm afraid you're not."

Malfoy sighed angrily and hit the counter with his cane. It was nice to know his temperament hadn't changed after all these years. "Then who _is_?"

Luna looked past Malfoy's shoulder to Harry. Harry didn't want to talk to Lucius Malfoy. None of their previous encounters had gone very well. And yet, well, he was here asking about the welfare of his son. That meant he cared at least a little for Draco, right? And who was Harry to keep that information from him. He felt for Draco again, but got an empty peaceful feeling that meant he was asleep. He wasn't sure how Draco would feel about telling his father what was going on, but Harry made a split decision to at least speak to the elder Malfoy.

"I am," he said out loud. He had been giving authority over Draco while Draco was losing his life. If anything needed to be done Harry had the authority to approve or decline it. There bond meant it was legally binding without any additional paperwork. That meant he was the one who should be speaking to Lucius Malfoy right now.

Lucius Malfoy slowly turned and gave a look that would have slowly burned him to dust if there had been any magic behind it. "Harry Potter." His face turned up in disgust, like saying Harry's name left a bad taste in his mouth.

"'Fraid so," he said with a shrug, closing the distance between them, albeit reluctantly and with his hands in his pockets.

"Please explain how _you _are in charge of _my _son." He laughed a mocking, bitter laugh. "He said you were friends, but this is surely an overstep of boundaries."

Harry glanced around. More healers and even some patients and visitors were gathering around, looking intrigued. Neither Harry not the Malfoys were able to keep a very low profile. People knew who they were watching and were actively trying to guess what was going on. "Maybe we can discuss this privately. Luna?"

"You can use my office," she offered immediately.

Harry titled his head toward Lucius Malfoy, silently asking if he was willing to agree. His blue eyes narrowed and he was viciously frowning, but he gave one single nod in assent. Harry let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "After you, Luna." They made an odd procession down the halls. Luna in her mismatched assortment of healers gear, Lucius Malfoy in a satin black robe that Harry imagined cost a small fortune and then him in muggle clothes of jeans and a t shirt. His shoes squeaked on the tile; he never noticed that before. Luna led them down a flight of stairs and then to a long hallway with a single door at the end with her name painted on a light green door: _Luna Longbottom, Research Specialist. _Luna opened the door for them and Lucius Malfoy passed the door with a sneer. The office was a small space, but it was private. There was a desk and three chairs, several metal filing cabinets and a coat hanger with at least three different jackets and sweaters hanging from it. Malfoy stood as far from Harry as possible. Harry for his part leaned on Luna's desk, unsure where to start.

Luna glanced at both of them and then cleared her throat. "I'll make tea." And then she was rushing out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Unfortunately, that meant Harry was alone with a very aggravated looking Lucius Malfoy. Harry tried to have the first word, but Malfoy spoke before him, tapping his cane against his left hand.

"Why is Draco here?" He asked, short, sweet and straight to the point.

Harry sighed. "He was injured."

The older Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "Elaborate."

"Draco was showing me the Malfoy grounds and a Death Eater attacked us." Harry tried his best not to lose his patience with Malfoy. Draco already had a strained relationship with his father and so did Harry. No need to make it worse.

Malfoy was scrutinizing Harry, gauging his trustworthiness, which was ironic to Harry. Harry never made it a habit of lying to people. Finally, after what must have been one of the longest seconds in Harry's life, Lucius Malfoy's expression thawed ever so slightly. "He's in the hospital, it must have been serious. How bad was it?"

Harry blew his bangs out of his eyes with an upward breath and scratched his neck. "Bad. Nearly fatally bad. It was," Harry swallowed hard, trying to maintain his composure. Most of the time he avoided thinking how close they had been to losing Draco because he became a basket case. He focused, pushing the images of a pale, lifeless Draco out of his mind. "It was touch and go there for a while." No matter how hard Harry tried his voice was thick with emotion.

A few moments passed as Malfoy continued to assess Harry. "And where do you fit in, Potter? Since when have you been on such good terms with Draco?"

"Well...for a while now. I've been living with him." Harry had no idea how to have this conversation. When he told Hermione about he and Draco's relationship she threw food at him, when he told Ron there had been a fistfight. He couldn't imagine Lucius Malfoy reacting any better when he realized his son was sleeping with Harry Potter.

"In the penthouse?" Lucius sneered. "Don't you have your own money? Where the hell do you even sleep? There's only the one bedroom."

Harry's eyebrows lifted. Alright...Draco had said his parents were rather dense when it came to his sexuality, but this was bordering on denial. "Um, right. Draco and I share the bed." Jesus, Harry felt his cheeks go red.

Lucius looked aghast. "Whatever for? He said you were friends, but that sounds ridiculous."

If Lucius thought _that _was ridiculous, then he needed to prepare himself. Obviously hints and suggestions weren't going to do the trick. Harry was going to have to be blunt. But not too blunt. Hell, this was difficult. He took another breath. "Draco and I are in a relationship."

"A relationship? What does that even mean?" Malfoy looked impatient, but not murderous.

"Really?" Harry didn't think he got it. Alright. Small words then. "I love Draco. Draco loves me. Does that make it clearer?"

There was the look Harry was waiting for, the ugly face, the horrified and scandalized with a bit of a green tint to it. It was starting to set it. "Preposterous. Draco isn't...Draco wouldn't…"

"Draco is and Draco would. Haven't you wondered why he keeps rejecting your offers of marriage?" Harry shrugged. "You've been offering the wrong sex."

Lucius Malfoy's mouth was opening and closing, but no words were coming out. His blue eyes bored into Harry's and suddenly he was on his feet, wand out of his cane sheath and pointed toward Harry. Harry had been expecting something like that. He was determined to stay calm as Lucius took a step forward. "You! This is _your_ doing."

Harry laughed. He might have been the one to first pursue Draco, but he was hardly the reason Draco was gay. Huh, or maybe he was. Maybe it was one of fates little games again. Regardless, Harry put his hands out in front of him in defense. "Draco was dating men long before I caught up with him again. I'll be the last one, though," Harry said confidently.

The wand came down. "We'll see about that. Draco's mother and I have spent years grooming Draco to take his rightful place in wizarding society. He will marry and he will sire an heir; I will command it. That is for certain."

Harry shook his head. "Those are delusions of grandeur. Draco and I are soul bonds. You have no authority over him anymore."

Shock washed over Lucius' face. "Soul bonds?" He almost seemed speechless. "You and Draco?" He was shaking his head. "Ridiculous. Who would be stupid enough to cast that spell over you _two_?"

"No one. That was all Draco."

The implications were not lost on Lucius Malfoy. He sat hard back on the chair, dropping the cane, but holding on to his wand in a loose grip. A gloved hand came up to the bridge of his nose and he started rubbing it. "That complicates matters."

"You can say that again." Harry sighed again, glad that Malfoy was either in shock or just handling this better than he thought he would. "Draco _is _complicated." Harry agreed gently. "I still love him." He touched the spot above his heart. A new expression settled on the older Malfoy's face. The surprise and indignation melted into resignation and he lowered his blue eyes to the ground. Harry felt a prickle of suspicion. "You knew Draco was gay, didn't you?" Malfoy looked up briefly and then back down. "You've _always _known." Harry couldn't keep the accusation out of his voice. Draco had been tortured about telling his parents and he yet he kept trying, and the whole time Lucius knew. Harry balled up his fists. He really hated Lucius Malfoy.

"I knew." Lucius replied in a whisper. "I was hoping it was a stage, a form of rebellion that he'd grew out of. I encouraged his mother to keep searching for a suitable match." He glanced up again, an upper lip curled back, "I guess there's no point in that."

Harry stopped himself from answering that he was more than a suitable match for Draco. Lucius' tone implied resignation, but acceptance. Harry doubted if they'd ever _accept_ him. However, Harry also knew that Draco wouldn't give a damn about his parents' preference. He'd already chosen Harry and Harry had already accepted. They were apart of each other lives now. Parents, traditions and expectations be damned. However, Harry was still trying. "If it makes you feel any better, that's how I was able to save Draco. Our bond."

"I suppose I'm in your debt then." Lucius stood and picked up his cane. "I must go. I need to speak to Draco's mother." He made for the door, but Harry blocked the way with a frown.

"Don't you want to see Draco? He'd be glad to know you came." Harry hoped. Lucius hesitated and made no move to past Harry. "I mean you came all this way." Harry frowned suddenly. "Which reminds me, how _did_ you know Draco was here?"

Lucius reached into the fold of his robe and pulled out a letter with a broken seal. "I received this by owl maybe a week ago. It's taken me a while to return to London."

Harry took the letter curiously and opened it up to read:

"_Lucius Malfoy, Your son Draco has been injured."_

That was it. That was all the letter said. "How did you know he'd be here?" Harry said as he continue to stare at the letter. Something about it was familiar and also worrying.

"I still have some contacts." Lucius replied sharply.

"Hmm," Harry said uninterested. There was just _something_. He kept staring at the cursive D to Draco's name. It was strange looking, almost like a backwards G. Why was that ringing a bell? Then it came to Harry. Slammed into him really like a bludger to the head. He'd seen it before, several times actually. He used to see it all the time when he had been an Auror and more recently he saw it when he read Draco's file at the ministry. Only one person wrote their Ds like that. Harry's hand started to shake and he felt the blood drain out of his face. "It's a distraction," he whispered.

"What?"

"Shit, he's here." Harry dropped the letter and shoved Malfoy out of the way as he opened the door. He was running full speed as he felt for Draco's consciousness, still asleep. He opened their bond wide and shouted. _Draco! Wake up! It's Cooke. He's here._


	28. Chapter 28: Attack

**Attack**

_Draco! Wake up! It's Cooke. He's here. _Draco inhaled through his nose and sat up, blinking the sleep away. Harry's warning was echoing in his head, but there wasn't much he could do about it. Sitting in the large chair next to his bed was the ex-Auror Maximus Cooke. He looked a little worse for wear. Brown hair lay stringy, greasy, and limp to his shoulders. He still wore that awful brown coat and it was dirty, flecks of mud and debris caked on his sleeves. The three scars on his face seemed more prominent as he stared at Draco, twirling his wand lazily in his right hand.

"I was hoping you'd wake up."

"Yeah? Why? We've never been much for conversation."

Cooke chuckled. "No, but otherwise it would have been too easy." He leaned forward. "Like killing a baby. This way, I can see the light go out of your eyes."

Draco tried to conceal the chill that went down his neck and spine. He could feel Harry running toward him, could feel the blind panic, but he tried not to let it control him. "Odd. I would have figured you as a complete coward." Keep him talking, keep him distracted. He used his hands to sit up more and felt the corners of something hard. Blindly he traced the shape until he realized what it was. Their book! He kept any expression off his face as he picked up the book. Cooke didn't seem to notice.

"Charming, Draco, as always." He stood, the chair scooted on the floor and the wand was pointed toward Draco. "I'll give your regards to Harry."

He began to flick his wrist and Draco decided now was the only time to act. He threw the book with all his might into Cooke's face and dove for the foot of the bed. A bright green light just missed him as he slid off the edge of the bed. "Shit!" The floor did not provide a gentle landing, but at least he was still alive. Draco glanced around looking for something _anything_ he could use. Harry's bag was open on the floor next to him, just within arm's reach. His wand was in there! Staying low he grabbed the bag. A spell flew toward him just as Draco pulled the bag to him. The spell hit the bag, throwing both it and Draco into the wall across the room. The wall was as unkind as the floor. Draco was struggling to pull air into his lungs, but he pushed through it, rummaging in the smoldering bag until he found his wand.

Cooke was coming around the bed, snarling. "You know, when the others told me you were hard to kill I thought they were exaggerating. I might have underestimated you."

Draco used the wall as support as he climbed back to his feet, wand tightly held in his right hand. His side hurt, his chest hurt, and he had a splitting headache. "Yeah," he manage with a grunt, "I get that a lot." Harry was closer now, just down the main hall. All Draco had to do was survive a few more minutes. Cooke fired a spell at Draco and he flicked his wand, countering the spell. Another came and then another. Draco frowned. These weren't even high energy spells. It was almost like he was taunting him, playing with him.

Cooke nodded as if he approved. "You are talented, I'll grant you that. See then, what you think of this." Cooke closed his eyes, his lips moving quietly and quickly. Draco had no idea what he was saying, but it couldn't be good. He lobbied an offensive spell at Cooke. The ex-Auror knocked it down like it was cloud. "Is that all?" Draco threw a jinx at him, noticing that he couldn't call the spell if he was fighting. Draco's spell was deflected again. This time Cooke rolled his eyes. "Are you even trying?" Cooke closed the distance between he and Draco in four or five long strides and ripped the wand out of Draco's hand as he backhanded him in the face. Draco crumpled to the floor, a hand on his cheek.

"Lovely," Draco said as he spit out blood. _Harry, you better hurry. _He felt Harry's reply loud and clear. _I'm nearly there. Keep him talking. _"What's the plan here anyway?" Draco said with a glare.

"The plan? Other than to kill you?"

"Well, yeah," Draco wiped his face with the back of his hand. It hurt like hell. "There can't be many more of your group. I've killed two and obliviated, what," he fake counted on his fingers, "four more? You know who else lose a whole army that way? Voldemort."

Cooke snarled at him. "That you compare me to him is an honor, but do not use the Dark Lord's name again."

Draco was eyeing his wand. It was nearly in reach if he dove for it. Unfortunately that would leave him open for an attack. _Don't! _Came Harry's warning. _Jesus Christ, just keep him distracted and keep alive._ Good ideas, thought Draco to himself, but he could see the growing impatience in Cooke's eyes. "Seriously, though," Draco continued, "what _is _the plan?"

"We will continue the Dark Lord's plan. We will rid the wizarding kind of those impure and less than holy." He drew himself as he talked, a feverish glow in his eyes.

Draco rolled his eyes. "You know I'm pure blood, right? Seems a bit backward."

"You're a traitor!" Cooke yelled. He looked around and behind him as if remembering where he was and why he was there. "And, it's time for you to honor those vows." The wand was pointed at Draco again and Cooke closed his eyes for the briefest moment. When they opened they were focused. There wouldn't be anymore conversation now, Draco could see that. No more distractions. Cooke took a deep breath, "Avada…"

Draco closed his eyes, picturing Harry, picturing a million different things, not of his past, but of his future. Things he never got to do, experiences he still wanted to have. In the center of everything was Harry and his emerald green eyes. He held on to that as Cooke finished the spell that no one had ever survived since Harry. _Harry. Harry. _

"_Expelliarmus_!"

Draco's eyes shot open in time to see the disbelief on Cooke's face as his wand slipped out of his hand. Harry stepped further into the room and shouted another spell before Cooke could react.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Cooke's body went rigid as a plank and turned icy blue for a split second before he fell to his back with a heavy thud. Harry snatched Cooke's wand for the ground and came to stand next to him, weaving a spell of heavy chains around his body. "Draco? Are you alright?"

Draco didn't answer immediately. He was fixated on Cooke's body being bound. A part of his brain was trying to understand that he was still alive.

"Draco!" Harry asked again, this time with panic as he stepped over Cooke's body. He bent down to be eye level with Draco. "Are you hurt!?"

"No, no. I'm fine," he said snapping out of his stupor. "Damn bastard made me bite my tongue."

Harry laughed a relieved and have manic laugh, wrapping his arms around him. "That was a bit close."

"You think?" Draco rest his forehead on Harry's shoulder. "Took the scenic route, did you?"

Harry rolled his eyes and helped Draco to his feet at about the same time many people barged into the room. Surprisingly Luna was first, wand drawn, a fierce battle ready expression on her face. She assessed the situation wordlessly, putting her wand away as she walked over Cooke (Draco thought she _might_ have even kicked him as she stepped over his body).

"Are you injured?" She asked looking him over.

"No," Draco wrapped an arm around Harry for support. "He just knocked me about a little."

The next person in the room was Ronald Weasley and two other men that Draco didn't recognize. They had the smell of Aurors on them though. He tried not to sneer.

"You got him?" Ron had his wand out. "You hurt?" He addressed Draco.

"No," Draco replied a little exasperated. Did everyone think he was incompetent or just weak. He was standing wasn't he? Harry gave a slight shake of the head. No one would have noticed but him and he felt a reprimand through their bond. _Stop it. You can lash out later, for now, they're just concerned about you. _Concerned for him? Then why did it feel like they were surprised. He felt Harry's own exasperation and it made him guilty. Harry was right. Everyone was just worried about him. He didn't have to be such an ass. He didn't know why he acted like that. Harry sighed aloud and just held him tighter.

Ron and the other Aurors were placing more spells on Cooke, readying him for transfer to somewhere. Draco hoped it was dark and dank and windowless. Ron glanced about. "Where's his wand?"

"Here." Harry held out the wand with his free hand for Ron to take it.

"Alright. We'll take him from here." The two Aurors cast a spell and Cooke's frozen and chained body lifted from the ground, hovering as one led the way and other followed. Ron stayed back for a second. "I'm glad you're ok, Draco. We'll let you guys know what we find." He turned and followed the Aurors.

Luna was still there. She walked to Harry and placed what looked like a coin into his hand. "Whenever you're ready to go home, use this. It's a one way one use portkey."

"What's the word?"

"Domum." She smiled as she backed away. "Home."

And then Harry and Draco were alone in the room. Draco was having a hard time organizing his thoughts. He was angry still but now that the adrenaline was wearing off he was scared. Not scared of dying, exactly. Hell, he'd been pretty close the past week. No, he was scared of losing Harry, of leaving him, of being separated from him. Harry was guided him back to the bed so he could sit and then Harry had his face in his hands and he was kissing him until they were both breathless and had to pull apart.

Harry kept his hands on Draco face and tilted his own to touch foreheads. "Shit, Draco. That was too close."

"Tell me about it." Draco was going to say something else when a familiar sounding cough caught his attention. Draco hadn't heard this particular cough in years, but recognized it immediately. It was the sound his father made when he was interrupting. "Harry," Draco whispered, "is that who I think it is?"

"Yes and it's a long story. Put on a good face, he came to see you."

"Well, fuck, help me up then." Harry ducked under Draco's shoulders and helped him off the bed, turning him so he could see his father for the first time in years. Nothing had really changed, Draco thought at first. His father's hair was still long, silver and straight, his robe was still high quality, and he still carried around his cane. What was different was his expression. Draco was used to seeing indifference or disappointed on his father's face when he looked at him. Neither were there now. Lucius Malfoy wore an open and worried expression.

He stepped into the room. "Are you hurt?"

"No, Father."

Lucius nodded, eyes wandering everywhere but Draco's gaze. He swallowed nervously and gestured to Harry. "Thanks to Potter...to Harry."

His father saying Harry's name was startling. Harry was sharing images and feelings with him simultaneously: a candid conversation between the two, revelations, truths, resignation. Harry didn't think Lucius would ever accept him, but saying his name had caught him of guard too. Draco wrapped his right arm around Harry's waist, both for mental and physical support. "I have Harry to thank for a lot of things."

"Which is great and all," Harry cut in gracelessly, "but can we talk about this at home?" He held out the coin that Luna had given him. "There's something else you should know anyway," he spoke to his father.

That's right, Draco remembered. Their fortune! "Come to the penthouse with us, Father. We can catch up."

Harry held out his hand and waited. Draco reached and touched the coin, looking at his father expectantly. With a sigh, Lucius stepped forward and placed a finger on the coin as well. Harry smiled. "Domum."


	29. Chapter 29: The End

**The End**

Harry woke gently to the sounds of seagulls calling lazily in the distance. He lay in bed, eyes shut and listened as the waves crashed upon the sandy shore and the palm trees rustled in the breeze. The air was salty and fresh, humid, but cool enough that it wasn't uncomfortable. The curtains billowed around him, which meant someone was already awake. Harry opened his eyes. He was naked and alone in bed, but not actually alone. Draco was just outside, enjoying the sunrise. Harry could feel his contentedness through their bond. Harry sat up with his legs over the edge and noticed a cup of coffee on his nightstand. Harry picked it up gingerly with a smile. Strange how his entire life had been turned upside down by a random cup of coffee. Meeting Draco that fateful day so many months ago had changed Harry's life forever. He went from being alone, worried he'd _always_ be alone, to falling in love with one of the most stubborn, passionate, _loving_ person. And it wasn't just love. Harry was Draco's soul bond. They were joined together. In so many different ways.

They finally managed to get away to their island. Draco, now reunited with his fortune, threw himself back into Drake Black Designs with relish. He and Brian had spent the last few months working on a new line that was finally done. It was about time too. Draco had a habit of working obsessively until he finished a line. Lucius and Narcissa moved back to Malfoy Manor, along with all their possession taken illegally. They asked Draco and Harry to dine with them frequently. More often than not Draco declined. He was glad his parents had their wealth back, but each dinner still included a family with an unwed daughter that Draco was forced to sit next to. Harry was more amused than Draco, but understood his vexation at his parents. Dinners at Ron and Hermione's were often and fun occasions. Hermione didn't drink anymore, not while she was expecting. It would give Harry great pleasure to be an uncle. Neville and Luna joined them when they could which was a nice addition. In the muggle world, _Seven Thirty One _was doing so well that Harry was planning on expanding. He had designs for a pub, more casual, more fun. He planned on calling that one _Six Oh Five._ Draco had rolled his eyes when he heard, but Harry knew he was secretly pleased.

And that brought Harry full circle. For Draco's twenty fifth they found an isolated island for rent near Fiji. It was only accessible by boat (or magic). The cabana was perfect, an open aired building with only thick curtains for walls that could be pulled back or left open. The main room had a kitchen and large sitting area with a long couch and two more comfortable chairs. Two fans kept the room cool. Their bedroom was mostly a large bed. When they first got there it was covered in mosquito netting. A few spells here and there made the netting unnecessary. Outside the cabana was covered in thatch. It extended to a large patio with two lounges that got just the right amount of sun. It cost a fortune, but between he and Draco they had the money to spent, and so they did, opting to spoil each other. He and Draco had been there already for a couple of days, but not once had they gone into the pristine waters of the ocean. They had been very preoccupied with each other. Harry sipped his coffee as he recalled last night.

_Draco had been stretched out on the couch, eyes closed, a glass of wine in his hand and completely naked. That had been the deal. Find a place where they could be naked and have each other whenever they wanted. It was a good deal. Harry had been watching him from the kitchen, just watching and admiring. Over the past months he'd gained back some of his weight. He was still slim, he'd always be slender, but now his skin curved around his bones instead of his bones jutting out of his skin. Small rays of moonlight fell on Draco's pale skin through the open curtains and Harry felt his heart constrict. It was possible that Draco was the single most beautiful person in the world. Harry found himself walking to be closer to Draco, suddenly very aware of the distance between them and needing to remedy that. He took Draco's glass and set it down. "Hey!" He began to protest. Until he opened his eyes and saw Harry. Harry wasn't even trying to conceal his longing, it wouldn't have done any good, his body was already responding. Wordlessly Harry extended his hand to Draco, who took it instantly. Immediately their mouths covered each other. So often Draco was the leader, but this time it was all Harry, using his tongue to discover all of Draco. Hands were in hair, on faces, holding and caressing. Harry could feel Draco responding to him, both their arousal touching. Feet were moving to the bedroom in a kind of blind dance. Neither paid much attention to the room around them and neither wanted any space between them. Somehow they made it into the room without knocking anything over or running into anything. _

_Still kissing Harry led Draco to the bed. Harry loved it when Draco made love to him, loved the feel of him moving within him, but sometimes he craved Draco. This was one of those times and Draco knew it, heart beat pounding, hands holding on to Harry's shoulders. Harry's lips were getting swollen and yet it was with great difficulty that he pulled away. He wanted to see Draco beneath him, wanted to look in is beautiful silver eyes with clouds floating in his iris. Harry knew you'd see a forest silhouetted in his. When their bond was wide open every part of their essence was connected, from their flesh, to their heart, soul and mind. Harry hovered over Draco, kissing his eyes, his lips, while letting on hand go wherever it wanted as the other supported his frame. Draco sighed under Harry's touch, moving into him, moving with him. Harry was so hard it was nearly painful. His desire for Draco was a special kind of torture. It grew inside him until he felt he would come undone and split into a thousand pieces. And yet Draco's own hands kept him stable, kept him grounded._

_With soft touches and passionate kisses, Harry grew harder and harder until he couldn't control himself any longer. He wanted, maybe even needed Draco. Draco responded to him without words, laying back, eyes on him, beckoning him. Harry was already lost in sensations as he finally gave in, entering Draco inch by wonderful inch until there was no space between them. Draco was already gasping, reaching for Harry's hands for support. Just being inside Draco, Merlin, the feelings were so strong. He could feel Draco all around him, and through their bond could feel how much more he wanted. Harry pulled out just an inch and then pushed back. The pleasure rippled from his head to this toes and he repeated the motion. Out and then in, deep in. Draco gasped and in the moonlight Harry watched as he turned his head left and right, deep in the throes of ecstasy. Out and in, out and in, he started to find a rhythm. Draco answered his thrusts with his own. The gasps were getting louder now, moans and groans accompanied Harry's movements and he drank it up. Out and in, out and in, faster now. He was starting to gasp, starting to feel that wonderful pressure building. "Draco!" Two cool hands reached out and held Harry's lower waist, pulling Harry down as Harry moved upward. Draco always seemed to know what to do and when to do it and Merlin it felt amazing. Draco's emotions were building too, desire and passion and lust and love all combined until it was too much. Draco came, arching his back, crying out, fingers digging into Harry's sides and Harry chased his climax with his own, thrusting and coming watching Draco's face, his eyes closed, his lips apart with a look of such satisfaction. Harry would never get tired of that face. Never. _

And in the morning, his thoughts were the same. He'd never get enough of Draco. Never in a hundred years. Harry's cup of coffee was nearly empty now. He sat it down next to a hardback copy of Angels and Demons_._ Stretching, he got up and wrapped a thin silk robe around his body. Harry had been thinking for a while what to get Draco for his birthday and thought he finally had the perfect gift. He went to the cabana closet and pulled out his bag. A new bag. His old one had been destroyed by a spell. He opened a few zippers and pulled out a black velvet box that fit in his hand. Inside was a single ring band made of platinum with a row of dark emeralds in the middle. Harry had debated giving Draco the ring several times, but always felt foolish, too sentimental. He'd had it made not long after Draco was released from hospital. Every time Harry thought about giving it to Draco he either lost his nerve or the moment never seemed right. He didn't know why he was so nervous. Hell, they were bonded. Neither were going anywhere. Harry really didn't know why he hesitated, but he was glad he did now. This seemed like the perfect time. He closed his hand around the ring and went to join Draco outside.

Harry was right when he guessed Draco was enjoying the sunrise. He was lying on a lounge in a pair of boxers and a matching white silk robe that was completely open, lazily blowing in the wind. The sun was shining on Draco as he had his face turned toward the rays, eyes closed, peaceful. Harry came from behind him and bent down, crossing his arms across Draco's chest in an embrace and kissing his neck and then his chin. "Good morning."

"Mmm, good morning," Draco replied without opening his eyes. "Did you sleep well."

Harry grinned as he pulled a lounge closer to Draco. "You know I did." His answer was Draco's lip twitching up in a grin. Harry touched Draco's knee. "Here, look. I got you something for your birthday." Draco's eyes opened with an excited gleam. He loved presents, and Harry knew it. With a flourish he held the ring between his forefinger and thumb. The sunlight reflected off the gems and scattered pure green light in every direction.

Draco was eyeing it with appreciation and anticipation. "A ring? It's beautiful."

Harry hesitated a split second and then Draco was looking into his eyes and Harry knew he was being silly for worrying. There was only love in those silver eyes. Love and acceptance and excitement. Harry held the ring closer to Draco but did not relinquish his hold. "It has a meaning for muggles. They exchange rings to their spouses as a symbol of their love and devotion." Draco was watching him, curious. "A circle never ends, see?"

Cool fingers were closing over his as Draco gazed lovingly at the ring. He kissed Harry's fingers tips, kissed the ring. "Which finger?"

"Um, that one." Harry reached for Draco's left hand and slid the ring on his ring finger. Draco sat back with his hand held out watching the sunlight reflecting. Harry leaned forward and directed Draco's lips to his own, kissing him. "I love you."

Draco kissed Harry back before smiling in the morning sun. "I love you too."

And they both knew that no matter what their future held, like the band of the ring, they'd never be apart and always be there for one another. Forever.

The End.


End file.
